Page 33

By Jack Joseph Smith

Not a soul walked by me and I have no soul to walk by it I heard it at the corner I heard it on the path The circus is so high Please take life away See it as you see it A desaster among the stars When I saw that particular blue I knew it was made up, as far as you can go, nothing close made it look that way, and not another place, the color belongs to us, may,e a better mind gave us art, not a chance, we have done it all

Original Scan

AI Interpretation

GPT

Isolation, despair, and cosmic spectacle meet in a voice that hears life as disaster and still insists that color and art belong to human making.

The first lines strip the speaker nearly bare, denying even the stable possession of a soul. Yet the poem does not stay in negation; it turns toward a fabricated blue and claims that invention itself carries authority. The last assertion is proud and exhausted at once, as if art is what remains after catastrophe has already happened.

Claude

Not a soul walked by me with the claim that the color of the particular blue was made up, belongs to us, done by mind not chance.