In Brother’s Hearts
When Joseph’s brothers
Threw him in the well
They baptized him in dust
And mud.
Strangers raised him up.
Those brothers so full
Of a family lie
Returned to their father Jacob
Blood smeared on rainbowed cotton-
And the truth.
This colorful wrap
Received like a prodigal ghost
To aged hands.
There was no ram in a thicket
To put this sin upon.
A wolf of Talmudic wisdom
Was caught for such distinction.
What these savant brothers forgot
In every lie thrums a bit of truth.
Wolf spoke: I have no taste for humans.
Thus knitting deceit even deeper
In the familial fabric.
John Ashbery Poet
He also said, "To create a work of art that the critic cannot even begin to talk about ought to be the artist's chief concern."
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1 comment:
Good for people to know.
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