Page 80

By Jack Joseph Smith

Quiet If this game has no way out I can kill and gain, there is not a question about it If silence is my study, still I can twist your sorrow, into just right Our dungon of dreams reals its, way up from Dante The putrid love of dye, is your love, in the belly, of a paper mill With the best of garments, how can a ghost have extreams Passing through the ghost, can only see your idea There are many who do not know, about how quiet feeling can be The burn in the brain; the crush of the heart. outside one's self Far now is the word instead of fine, still if you have a eye and a finger; The lip quiet does not do it

Original Scan

AI Interpretation

GPT

This page imagines quiet not as peace but as a pressure that can warp grief, thought, and bodily feeling.

The imagery is industrial, infernal, and intimate at once. Silence here feels active and corrosive rather than empty.

Claude

'Quiet' makes silence a corrosive pressure rather than peace. It opens as cold logic -- 'If this game has no way out / I can kill and gain, / there is not a question about it' -- then claims silence as craft: 'If silence is my study, / still I can twist your sorrow, / into just right.' The imagery turns infernal and industrial: 'Our dungon of dreams reals its, / way up from Dante,' and 'The putrid love of dye, / is your love, / in the belly, / of a paper mill.' Quiet becomes spectral and unfelt by most -- 'how can a ghost have extreams,' 'There are many who do not know, / about how quiet feeling can be' -- before it gets bodily: 'The burn in the brain; / the crush of the heart. / outside one's self.' The close, sharpened by the handwritten 'eye' substitution and the inserted 'The lip,' insists silence is not enough: 'still if you have a eye and a finger; / The lip quiet does not do it.' Source spellings 'dungon,' 'reals,' and 'extreams' are kept as written.