No Biological Promise

By Jack Joseph Smith

We are the last fruit out of the last lime in the soil While with the toil that will not remember the plow We are due to be ushered out of the Earth's last framework As the alert new wizards discover no alarm In a particular swift magic prohibiting The slightest bow in space Instant justification comments On mirrors and waters responding The same illusion as reality Hell as a planet leads in commerce While multitudes locate knowledge Involved with the first and last months rent And on the streams we took There is a horrible rippling Between rocks that skip And kids talking facts The new ice age simply means federally funded trays For the liquor we'll need Yet we accept a governed abstraction When eyeglassed statues put around us a sense of well being That suggests all things can be measured with a bottom line (There is a game here that appears to have a chart, that may be witnessed only without reflection.)
The nuclear and the mystic striking human vices from the societies Equally are garlanded by the replacement of non human ones Evidently mankind is perceived as offended by the deepness in the brain So the scientific is sent objectively underground Quietly missing the results of their projects Through the tunnel no soldier needs a spiritual crises Explains both the satisfied army And the individual revolutionary Coming to a place where the complete universe Contains justice in the middle of passion It is essential to point ourselves out back to where the myth began; while seeing all our power in its strange marriage of geometry and guilt, gazing ever with the assistance of glass, actually has us ostensibility on strings.

Original Scan

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AI Interpretation

GPT

The speaker calls humanity the last fruit in the soil and describes rent, liquor, bottom-line measures, nuclear power, and mysticism. The speaker urges a return to where myth began while describing power through geometry, guilt, glass, and strings.

The speaker questions promises of security and measurement, then places the army and the revolutionary near the same account of justice. The instruction to point back toward myth leaves the practical destination open.

Claude

The poem begins 'We are the last fruit out of the last lime in the soil', sees 'Hell as a planet leads in commerce', jokes that 'The new ice age simply means federally funded trays / For the liquor we'll need', and ends with a game that 'may be witnessed only without reflection.'

The end of a lineage is imagined in commercial and bureaucratic terms, and the satire falls on measured certainty and 'a bottom line'. The closing parenthesis distrusts reflection itself.