Page 24

By Jack Joseph Smith

A POEM TO A PAINTER BEFORE: When I went to the calling that was the magic of this horror show I saw minds winding through darkest parts of the eternal currents into down below trailing upon twisted memories I went so slow on the screaming edge of my hanging lungs at the final moment when the last reded eye went into me and I caught a life in time to say I saw through men over knowledge as timeless with wisdom as an untouched tree after they had captured a brain and on scalpel sharp surgical stone cut it raw. IT ALL: When I see water rolling white in the night within winding grays I think of the day that sank away to feelings going on the flow of men's sounds carried alas on the stillness in time to where there would have been other men as Will could have gone beyond toward turning teacher into brother but thought of all the gravestones along the way and could I walk there pretending I never witnessed deep dread face of the spirit or what would I write after again to again the wine went dripping from my mouth walking from doors of closing taverns with tears running a down my lines like fading colors of a worn out hobo's tie? HAPPENED: Men among lost men blessing man's soul in the wild of the black alley the world has yet to tally your understanding and consecrate lone agony in wreaths false wrapped round the tombs they place above you yet with art I deepen my own still passing beneath strength knowing movement gives not good leave with reply.

Original Scan

Page 24

AI Interpretation

GPT

'A POEM TO A PAINTER' with BEFORE / IT ALL / HAPPENED sections: descent into horror and surgical vision, then tavern memory, then a blessing among lost men in the alley.

The page frames painting and poetry as parallel acts of witness. Its three-part structure matters: preparation, immersion, then aftermath. The 'worn out hobo's tie' simile keeps the page tied to the collection's hobo persona even while the poem addresses another artist.

Claude

Titled 'A POEM TO A PAINTER' and divided into 'BEFORE:', 'IT ALL:' and 'HAPPENED:', the typed prose-poem moves from a 'horror show' of minds winding through dark currents and a brain cut 'on scalpel sharp surgical stone', to tavern nights with tears running 'down my lines like fading colors of a worn out hobo's tie?', to 'Men among lost men blessing man's soul in the wild / of the black alley'.

The three headings turn the piece into a before, during and after of witnessing, as if the poet is laying out panels for the painter. Long unpunctuated lines let images of horror, drink and grief run together, while the hobo's faded tie ties the speaker's own suffering to a painterly image of worn color. The last section offers art as a way to deepen and bless what the world has not yet understood.