Book 1, "Holes in Hands"

There are going to be three images in this post. Two are of a poem of a friend that I copied down. At the time I liked the wok enough to include it in my journal and to draw an image to go along with it. The author's name is Austin Ruskowitz, and the artist is our very own Past Justin.

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Holes in hands- Austin Lee Ruskowitz

The black grass reaches up and grabs my feet

The puppet strings of the catalyst just beyond my reach

The moon smiles in his esoteric solution

In my defeat

The cross hangs upside down

Barely visible by the sun

The wind stops in agony

The moon pulls out the knife

The woman rises from the dirt

The dirt runs from her flesh

Her flesh follows suit

As the sun starts to set

Their (There I think) is a fig tree on the hill

leafe (Leaf) by leafe (leaf) it bears no fruit

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Nooses hang like Christmas bells

That only ring the truth

A man appears from behind the moon

He comes closer yet is still

He turns around

The tree falls down

Back into the hill

The wind picks up the pieces

The moon grins from ear to ear

The sun sets in shame

     -Austin Lee Ruskowitz

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And the picture by Past Justin.