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By Jack Joseph Smith

Take the sourse of grief Take the best of giving Take the loss in a fight fake the win you have had I did not see a second when I turned I don't care about fish over meat Maybe it @s just better thar in the middle of nowwhere Not to be imposing And give me a minute I am not sorry for the way other people think When I sfjeeted the sail it was mine

Original Scan

AI Interpretation

GPT

Grief, giving, loss, victory, solitude, and ownership are gathered into a blunt declaration that the speaker will not apologize for what was his when he set the sail.

The poem moves like a list of hard-won terms for survival, each command taking something painful and refusing to sentimentalize it. Its indifference to other people's thinking is not casual; it comes after the speaker has already passed through fight and isolation. The sail at the end matters because it turns private will into motion, claim, and direction.

Claude

Take the source of grief, the best of giving, loss and win. Not to be imposing, and when I sheeted the sail it was mine.