Page 16

By Jack Joseph Smith

The end is a gathering, no more giving, not more taking; having what you have, showing to the Sun and Moon, likely the whisper of the loss to Cain the wrinkled nose of upbringing has been beautified in knowing Even animals realize that when alone, nothing is kinder than a sound This change through centuries, is why there are no trees in Europe Equally again, as well we have desired, our flesh in ashes, balancing, suggesting, an aerobatic slightness toward the almost, as good in this Earth as the slaughter; yes; while age says sight is the constant stumbling, over the magical rocks "While as a child only I was the saint with the sword" The grantie we stood on had no perception, until it was tugged across the Adriatic Yes, above the Bible we went, absolutely in the clouds Those on fire worshiped again, equally

Original Scan

AI Interpretation

GPT

The poem turns toward Cain, Europe, sound, and sacred height in a search for what remains kind or perceivable after violence.

This page is more reflective than the earlier sections, but it stays severe. Even consolation arrives through loss, exile, and religious image.

Claude

The 'Clensed' material extended toward Europe. 'The end is a gathering, no more giving, not more taking,' and 'Even animals realize that when alone, / nothing is kinder than a sound.' A startling historical aside - 'This change through centuries, / is why there are no trees in Europe' - reads deforestation as moral exhaustion. The ash-and-slaughter refrain recurs, sight is 'the constant stumbling, / over the magical rocks,' and the granite the speakers 'stood on had no perception, / until it was tugged across the Adriatic,' carrying the poem's geography from Pittsburgh toward the Balkans.