By Jack Joseph Smith
Original Scan
AI Interpretation
High altitude, thin air, temptation, the cross, boxing a snake, arthritic hands, and handwritten claims about modern mob violence and Poncis Pilot come together in a poem about strained endurance.
The page makes spirituality feel physically taxing. The typed ascent is interrupted by handwritten additions, so faith here is not calm elevation but a pressured field of corrections, defiance, and historical-religious accusation.
'A Way' climbs toward crucifixion imagery on thin mountain air. It begins with prohibition - 'We are not permited to contest the cross / when we stand on top of the world' - where temptations 'must bow the furthest' and altitude inverts orientation: 'Down is up when lungs are thin with air'. The typed lines mix bravado and decay - 'When I will box a snake / when it is standing up', then 'Now I' wring my arthritie hands / Though Thay have not nails / Through them yet' - aligning the aging body with an unfinished crucifixion. The handwritten additions, including 'with my modern Mob Violence' and 'I Know Poncis Pilot', drag the cross into a personal, accusatory present. Source spellings ('arthritie', 'Poncis Pilot') are kept.