Page 348

By Jack Joseph Smith

Jon, it's A deep down into the RACOON, it's A Spin out of the hole your in HEY WE HAVE both stoped when children, AND said, I Ain't shoot'en Any More PE, DEERIES in there, AND TAKEN the smother out of the far side of the hole, SEE you there, REMEMBER that GRIN, top of the LINE.

Original Scan

AI Interpretation

GPT

The page speaks in rough hole-and-line imagery, mixing childhood, stopping, and a refusal to keep shooting with a strange grin remembered at the edge.

Something deep and trapped opens into a statement about stopping and no longer shooting, then shifts toward a meeting-place at the far side of the hole. The odd 'PE, DEERIES' phrase keeps the page raw and private, while the final remembered grin gives the fragment a dark, half-surviving tenderness.

Claude

A Jon-note that half-remembers a shared childhood refusal. I Ain't shoot'en Any More becomes the page's center, with the racoon hole and the far side of the hole functioning as the landscape where that refusal was first made. Memory as terrain.