Page 12

By Jack Joseph Smith

The man who put my All the way through the fiddle A history Yeah I was knocking him down a road The sun just up in winter It was extreamly Pennsylvania cold One thing for sure, that man was in the air Quick as war, I knew I was in a problem He said that eye on the left is gone I said I did this all alone some snow he brought a winged but gone wrong So brought me along; had none upon It was just a deathday Of my old man's death to the relay And he kept going without A long baton without a switch It was if a mission out of the soul on a holder, No, don't stop, that's the way it's done?

Original Scan

AI Interpretation

GPT

Winter, Pennsylvania cold, road violence, and the speaker's father's death converge on this page as a broken American scene.

The typed layer already carries enough force without the blue pen. It feels like a poem of impact and relay, where personal grief and physical assault keep overlapping.

Claude

A winter Pennsylvania vignette of the speaker being driven down a road by the man who shot out his left eye, cast as a deathday relay with a 'long baton without a switch' and the instruction 'don't stop, that's the way it's done'.