Page 23

By Jack Joseph Smith

Ahoy Out the holler I always had the rifel on my shoulder, a little bit of the Grateful Dead, and without my convect swamp feet weet saw the glimmer of all time as a river running through the shale of coal where no matter how you shaded your eyes, or applied your vision it ment money for family through sequence split little enough with a thousand belly frogs yaking to get through Your will it closed the deal on the Moon being more romantic than Wyoming assuriadely in the West CAVERN hundreded Virginia I have only seen one snake in the do stream while many a deer I shoot down, wild not now, But the timing is close to true, yet taking the minutes to walk with her, explaining the danger was a mistake while you are far away now, and the smell has changed along the banks except for HER bones

Original Scan

AI Interpretation

GPT

"Ahoy" revises the holler material through rifle, Grateful Dead, coal shale, family money, deer, handwritten place markers, and distance until the banks themselves seem to remember what the speaker failed to keep.

The glimmer is still there, but now it is tangled with commerce, sequence, and inheritance, as if even vision has been monetized by coal. Wyoming and the Moon remain rival fantasies, while the handwritten CAVERN and HER annotations pull the page toward buried place and personal loss. The closing mention of her bones gives the changed smell along the banks a grave-like permanence.

Claude

Plo¢ / expanded holler: Grateful Dead on the shoulder, Wyoming over the Moon, deer timing close to true, but the mistake was not taking minutes to walk with her. Smell along banks changed except for yer bones.