Page 14

By Jack Joseph Smith

I am in the dark and the candel is oerfeet I can made the flame strieght or crook it to get the wax even off the shelve I wonder why greatness , the unchangeable kind was achived over a drafting table, a desk lit by candel He dows not just know fire, everyone does where I come from, he is fire, he and his pwn are the parts of a brolen Sun When they shut off the electruem you would be suttrised what I can do with rhw voues of my grandma's grandma'x U am blowing out the flane U am going to sleep U wull not sleep with huy Catch me, sleep with you Now my shoulders are gate Twilight

Original Scan

AI Interpretation

GPT

The page links darkness, fire, household skill, and inherited memory, then lets the ending blur into a more dreamlike state.

Its strongest movement is from practical candle-work into something larger and mythic: fire becomes ancestry, and the speaker's ordinary competence becomes a kind of elemental knowledge. The partly legible ending fits the page rather than weakening it, because the poem is already crossing into sleep and twilight.

Claude

A page where the OCR breaks down mid-stanza into phonetic spellings: `electruem`, `suttrised`, `Catch me, sleep with you`. The candle, the wax, the broken Sun, the grandma's grandma's voices. The handwriting leaking through the typescript.