Page 64

By Jack Joseph Smith

Young Man And The Sea The only thing WE CAN- do is what is Not The Same They were not what you call livid,, they were buldging from their eyes Ravid would be an easy way to talk about it my Blood is coing out of the last of flesh offered to the sea and sun, so their skin is blistered, and comprention is not a try Tongue's suncken, bobbing way from their cracked conoe's as I mystically saw it I'm drinking rum in the neighboorhood,, and doing cocane as fact as I can, when I can And it is the Muriel boat lift,, and I own my own boat They came aboard,, and I lost my boat The clouds are big and pretty im Key West Pissed off as hell,. I sware I looked up,, And was told I'd HAVE A CHANCE for HEAVEN NOW

Original Scan

AI Interpretation

GPT

Sea-battered bodies, rum, cocaine, and neighboorhood bravado make maritime vision feel both hallucinatory and self-destructive, framed by a handwritten call to do what is not the same.

The page binds sea disaster to intoxication and private ownership: battered bodies enter the speaker's boat, and the loss of the boat becomes a strange opening. The handwritten my before Blood intensifies the bodily identification, while the ending turns anger and looking up into a chance for heaven.

Claude

Sea-battered bodies, rum, cocaine, and neighborhood bravado produce a maritime vision that is simultaneously hallucinatory and documentary. The self-destruction is observed from inside, without distance.