Page 62

By Jack Joseph Smith

My five thousand poems Are lost among the stars Work is the way of the young Let find a chance to catch ourselves Wolves of the universe Watch dogs of lower income Soul and belly fire About the tomestone Nothing to do with lying about it Going to Hell for killing what has crossed you Play your song I do not think so

Original Scan

AI Interpretation

GPT

The speaker says five thousand poems are lost among the stars, moves through young work, wolves, watchdogs, fire and killing, then rejects an instruction to play a song.

The recurring draft combines cosmic scale with work and moral judgment. Unlike the previous page, it has no handwritten greeting to suggest an addressee.

Claude

A second typed copy of the poem on page 61: 'My five thousand poems / Are lost among the stars', ending 'Play your song / I do not think so', without the greeting.

The copy confirms the typed text of page 61.