Page 268

By Jack Joseph Smith

My Son My son, young and unbent; has a trade, proud and placed Tooled from his Grandfather's garage, nuts and bolts, grass roots; there's the beginning, toward his vision My young son has a craft,, planed and put up to the top; honed hard with his hands since he was six, up with the grit Catastrophe makes mask of his life on cliffs and The cause of his hurt he looked back, a Cherokee; struck with a birth in adventure. good through the middle of life..the bank-owners;

Original Scan

AI Interpretation

GPT

This rough, heavily revised draft of "My Son" praises inherited craft and grit while pushing toward a more troubled account of hurt, catastrophe, and a life shaped by unfinished adventure.

The readable typed layer begins with family trade: grandfather's garage, nuts and bolts, hands, grit, and machine work. The added lower lines darken that praise with catastrophe, hurt, and looking back, while the heavy handwritten overlay shows the poem still being actively reworked. The revision layer is documented but omitted from the body because its full wording and reading order remain unstable.

Claude

Compressed 'My Son' restatement (echo of 226): the trade tooled from Grandfather's garage, nuts and bolts, grass roots; honed since he was six, up with the grit.