E. WILLIAM MARTIN

E. William Martin is the author of Judas Tree and Paper Spirits available at Amazon.com . He has been published most recently or upcoming in remark., Thunder Sandwich, Mystery Island Magazine, Babel Magazine, SpaceBreather, Gin Bender Poetry Review, Love & Sadistic Dharma 2 and Shades Beyond Gray. He is the editor of the James River Poetry Review and currently lives in Virginia.

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"JUDAS TREE"

Telling the tale -

Along the road it beckons me
Its arms longing its limbs for warmth
To hold, to have, to clutch

Its lover's soul in the grasp a journey
In undertaking, basking in the sun
Like a bridge without bottom bringing to knees
Roots pouring the massing ground splintering
As it may twitching around the prey - meeting
Men souring years spill in the night thirst

Remembering the moon -
Lost patience wishing away the morning
But still its leaves stretch the wind hunger while bark
Etches lust in the knots and wisdom shades the rings

Bending and crossing and leaning and feeling

Dedication stands in the haul, along the road
All standing, pulling the thread through the eyed needle

Yet man cannot live on bread and water alone.

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"MILK AND HONEY"

Three days
Running, the sound of rustling

Leaves echo

Against the twilight of a nearing river
Heard in between
Panting breaths
Of livelihood. Lincoln was an animal

Savage

Crazed and frightened for freedom.
Realizing that the gnawing
Through of leg would be the only means of escape.

He was their animal
Bought and bled
Traded on the run for his existence.

They'd hang him for sure if they caught him.

His muscles ached some time
Surpassing the earlier
Stages of arched pain and
Had superseded to the point of
Axiom and exhaustion.

His passion kept him going

Would this war ever end?
Further

Always had
With adrenaline
Picking up the pieces
Of a shattered man
From days previous and prior.

A runaway.

The bark and gruff of the hounds behind him
Kept pace in the fearing distance
Not to far

Booming
Booming

Like that of a metal smith
Meeting mallet and iron

Creating tool.

He was their hammer.
Happy little Negro

To beat in iron as they pleased.

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"ALICE'S FIRST DAY"

Go away Alice -
You ain't seen nothin' no how!

But who is to say what she had seen.
After all,
She had never seen a dead body before.

There is something to be said about
The first time you see a dead body -

A real decomposing corpse, not the kind on
The television mind you or in the movies,
But melting away, channeling to the dirt.

Something frightening, chilling,
Yet, calm and radiating a beautiful silence
Within a grasp of light, sky and magic.

North of New Haven
Sees wood and brush
Her faith
Rearing back as the flesh lay
Unfolding to maggots
Underlying the force of marrow
Dusting the earth with decay and dandelion meditation.

The boys pointing and laughing
Grabbing each brother's shirt in
Excitement of the grotesque leaving to moralities sake -

Alice's brain to revolve.

She glowered over the dead woman.
Her ring finger held a delicate silver bond
Probably of her lover, scarred with weather.

A watch under leaves
Engagement denied by the course of jealousy
Or institution of flowing autumn,
Galloping men's hearts to madness of fall.

Rich in the sunlight
Her eyes still scolding open
A frown upon the brow ripping
To the ill and swagger
Of what was left of her gentle spirit.

Alice did go away -
Praying she'd never have to witness
A soul of broken wings again.

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"LAZARUS"

What we always wanted might happen sometime
Soon. We thought it a comfort to know a
Beggar's role in eternity through the narrow
Glass eyes of rich men:

He traveled the roads late, three days and no taxi,
As intended, to teach why sands disappear
And stones roll away. The sun relentlessly
Played the trumpet rising that fourth day.

From inside Bethany, ashes fell and light reached
The stoned tomb where my Lazarus lay,
Hidden under rags of a nobody beggar sore and
Soiled, licked by the relentless dogs of street and sleep.

Recurring is what we know best of all. In
Those reaches of Judea, sky echoes suffering
Hollow pain by a beggar understood
And know only by one perfect soul.

We thought his bleeding hands might tumble
Wide through the horizon of man's freewill
Downfall, mirroring our wrongs and ceasing
Them of existence through the water.

We didn't know at the time
"Take away the stone," and he emerged

New and unbeaten. To love. To sin.
To fall short and be loved by this man.

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"MOVIE OF THE WEEK"

We know our time will come when life
And everything that ever was anything becomes
A silent motion picture edited for television.

We know our roles will diminish as time's hand
Lay dirt with worms and rot for just a
Small glint, a glimmer of light resurfaced.

A trumpet to sound, a call to be heard,
A name to be called, and the sequel
To begin. Uncensored and unending. Roll tape.