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By Jack Joseph Smith

Holler'' I never walked out of the trees I saw the glimmer all the time no matter what they say It wasn't the river We played way up in the streams In the old days I hear you had to take a stone home so to see how far away you were; as if that would make a difference Young and old is good though He he, it makes you surprised all the way along; EXCEPT for some!! I never thought there was any difference between Where I stood between a mountain and a pasture; People Places I changed direction in

Original Scan

AI Interpretation

GPT

"Holler" answers the earlier woods poem by insisting the glimmer was always there, while distance, age, mountain, pasture, and direction all begin to lose their separateness.

The refusal to walk out of the trees feels like a refusal to leave the old vision behind. Bringing a stone home to prove how far one had gone is treated almost mockingly, as though measurement never settles what distance means. The handwritten notes around exception, standing, and people make the final turn feel like a revision of categories: mountain, pasture, place, and person all become ways to mark where one has stood.

Claude

Holler returns shorter: never walked out of the trees, the stone-home custom, and I never thought there was any differance between a mountain and a pasture, places I changed direction in.