Page 444

By Jack Joseph Smith

Butterfly I can only do what I am told when I want to do it any way while there she was wonderful looking over the side of me whenever she choose to speak at fifteen a possibility as I was twenty six watching her reaching down from the rafters her hand in a sea wave with the other grasp stronger than a swing she sang I do not do things I am against repeated in my memory the glancing of her so perfect graceful is her friend as deliberate my concern her legs are twice as long as the tables and how long had she been standing there waiting for at least one thought to show up and beauty is hard to find put together at the same time in my view unimageable Through the canyon your leaving, and it is not her That is floating away

Original Scan

AI Interpretation

GPT

This 'Butterfly' page remembers a young woman's grace with stunned attention, treating beauty as difficult to assemble into thought.

The scan-reviewed text clarifies the motion of looking: over the side, from the rafters, at the hand, legs, and waiting. The title fits because the figure remains delicate and unreachable while the speaker recognizes himself as the one drifting away.

Claude

'Butterfly' is one continuous prose-poem of stunned watching, and it states its own unease plainly: 'at fifteen a possibility / as I was twenty six'. The girl reaches 'down from the rafters', her hand 'in a sea / wave', and sings 'I do not do things I am / against'; her grace is catalogued ('her legs are twice / as long as the tables') until 'beauty is hard to find'. The close shifts the loss back onto the speaker - 'Through the canyon your leaving, and it is not her / That is floating away.'