Ascent
PRAISE FOR MATTHEW BAILER
Matthew Bialer’s epic historical, lyrically explosive, narrative poem, ASCENT, about what happens when ‘a flash of light’ hits the town of Van Meter is immediately generative. That is, it generates speed and tenderness and devotion—to a vision, Bialer’s vision—which is superlative and, ultimately, generous. This poem is a gift of the imagination rooted in ‘a happening’—a creature, a creature!—because Bialer has figured out his own way of telling a story through poetry. His cadences coupled with his imagery allow the reader to be swallowed up completely. This poem is a visitation in as much as ‘the creature’ that visited Van Meter in 1903 was a visitation. The difference, though, is that Bialer’s poem is about the beauty that comes with mystery and not the fear that can take hold when something unknown enters the psyche, the field of what is and what is not. Whatever you do, hold your breath, take your time, and become swept up in Bialer’s illumination and brilliance.
—Matthew Lippman
author of AMERICAN CHEW and MONKEY BARS
When everyone else seems to be exploring their own navels or has just figured out that “language” doesn’t “mean” “anything”, Bialer takes our hand and pulls us outward into a much larger, stranger world. Bialer is a successful street photographer and painter and he brings his artist’s eye to these amazing poems, showing us the unspectacular real world behind the supernatural. These are poems that celebrate imagination and folly and the heartbreak that is being human and trying to make sense of a world that is infinitely bigger than even the craziest of us imagines. I read a lot of poems and I never have come across anything quite as beautifully strange as Bialer’s.
—Matthew Rohrer
Author of RISE UP and DESTROYER AND PRESERVER
Matt Bialer’s epic poem, Ascent, is a chilling dive among America’s forgotten monsters, that still dwell in the walled-up caves of the Striped Beast’s subconscious.
—Seb Doubinsky
Author of GOODBYE BABYLON and SONG OF SYNTH
“The most intriguing poetry collection of the year for me was Matt Bialer’s collected narrative poems—we’re not talking “The Cremation of Sam McGee” here. These are sharp, modern narratives, my favorite being one about Charles Fort.”
—Lucius Shepard
Bizarro Pulp Press
an imprint of JournalStone Publishing
Detroit*San Fransisco
Ascent
Copyright © 2014 Matthew Bialer
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval systems, without the written consent of the publisher, except where permitted by law.
Printed in the USA.
Cover Design: P.A. Douglas
Interior layout by Lori Michelle
FOR MY FRIEND AND GREAT POET AND NOVELIST
SEB DOUBINSKY
In the darkness
He thinks he sees
A flash of light
1 AM
Ulysses G. Griffith
Of Brothers Implement
Implement seed
And vehicle business
Pulls into hometown
Of Van Meter
In his brand new Model A
Two cylinder engine
Ten speed transmission
With full elliptical leaf springs
At the rear
Mechanical brakes
A flash of light
In the darkness
Coming from the roof
Mather and Gregg’s Building
A light
Like a search beam
Where there has never
Been one before
Gets out of the vehicle
Adjusts his sack coat
Waist coat and trousers
Walks over
Where there has never
Been one before
What is that light?
A burglar?
Looks up
At the brick building
Cautiously
Walks closer
Nose twitches
Foul sulfur odor
A flash of light
Something strange
Unexpected
The light
Floats across the street
Relieved
That it’s not a burglar
But what is that?
Floats
To another rooftop
Opposite side of the street
What is that?
And how?
How in the name of God?
The light dims
Gone
To open their eyes
And to turn them
From the darkness
To the light
The town awakes
To hear him
Talk about
The unusual sights
A flash of light
In the darkness
Townspeople confused
An established figure
Community of Van Meter
Respected
Has a new venture
With his brother David
Very active
Sits on the Village Council
Member of two local clubs
Maybe he saw the moon
Had he been drinking?
A flash of light
In the darkness
The next night
Local doctor
Dr. Fred Alcott
Keeps a room
For resting
Rear of his office
Prepares for bed
2:27 am
This September night
Awakes
To a bright light
Shining in his face
What the devil?
A patient?
Bright flash of light
Through the window
Blinding
A flash of light
In the darkness
Grabs his
Remington Model 4 rifle
Runs outside
To find the source
Air misty
Smell of fallen leaves
Behind the light
A massive form
What in the name of God?
Creature
8 feet tall
Half human
Half animal
Can see where the light
Is coming from
Where the light
Is coming from
The center
Of the creature’s forehead
A small blunt horn
Great bat-like wings
Double thick skin membranes
Body covered
In dense fur
Black brown
Can see where the light
Is coming from
The horn, the horn
Terrible rotten egg smell
His eyes sting
I must slay this beast
Raises his rifle
Fires
Reloads
Fires
Five shots
No effect
My God! My God!
Stands there
The Doctor
Runs into his office
Locks the doors
And windows
To open their eyes
And to turn them
From the darkness
From the power of Satan
No one in the town
Believes
A flash of light
In the darkness
No one believes him
The Doctor’s gone batty
Too much absinthe
A monster in Van Meter?
The next night
October 1
st
One AM
Clarence Dunn
Walks alone
Through the quiet
Known to his friends
As Peter
And to turn them
From the darkness
Smokes brand new
Peterson Pipe
Cousin brought him
From
Half moon
Between passing clouds
Moon
Swallowed
By shadow
Graduated high school
Nearby town
Job as cashier
Van Meter State Bank
Owned by the Goar brothers
Puffs his pipe
Working his way up
To manager
Going to stand guard there
In case of these burglars
Has his trusty
Harrington and Richardson single barrel
Twelve gauge shot gun
Packed with buckshot
Nobody’s robbing us
Once at the small brick building
Settles in for long night’s watch
Half-asleep
Hears a noise
Gasping
Garbled gasps for air
Almost speaking
Someone choking?
A flash of light
In the darkness
And to turn them
And to turn them
Then a beam
Falls upon him
Through the front window
Sudden
Bright
Blinding
Like a search light
Snaps off him
Darts about the room
Gets a look
At the source
A great form
Of some kind
Begins to reveal itself
A great form
Reveals itself
Huge wings
Of skin
And to turn them
From the darkness
Light darts back
On him
Peter screams
Screams
Steadies barrel of gun
Towards the thing
Fires point blank
Through the window
Glass shatters
I killed it!
I killed it!
But when he goes outside
It’s gone
No blood
Gone
Just shards of glass
And something else
A large footprint
In the mud
A footprint
3 toes
I wasn’t seeing things
3 toes
And I saw an angel come
Down from heaven
Having the key
To the bottomless pit
How art thou falleth
From heaven
How art thou falleth
***
We’re headed to
My partner Eric and I
Researchers
Documentary filmmakers
Of the paranormal
History Channel
A & E
Lifetime
Our specialties
Lost cities
Atlantis and Lemuria
Pole shifts
Hollow Earth
Pre-Columbian trans oceanic contact
A film about
Top hauntings in
E-mails and texts
Eric and I
Combing through files
Which places should we go?
Which places?
Haunted by the ghosts
Of young children
Murdered by their mother
A Large and unknown creature
Werewolf-like
—Sigh
—Another werewolf story
—I’m werewolfed out
Or
1881
Kate Shelly
Crawled across damaged bridge
Near Boone
Fierce storm
To warn oncoming train
That the bridge was out
The bridge was out
Original bridge long gone
But the replacement
Built in 1901
Supposedly home
To her ghost
Phantom trains
Seen and heard
—Not another phantom choo choo
We’re missing a centerpiece Eric
We need a really good story
Suppressed technology
Tesla
Free energy
Ancient Astronauts
Anti-gravity
Vimana aircraft of ancient
One hour films about hauntings
Each of the 50 states
Now it’s Iowa’s turn
A lot of stories
About cursed angels in cemeteries
Of all states
Have highest percentage
Of residents
Indifferent to ghost stories
—Why are they so jaded?
—Honey I don’t think a boat
—Will be big enough for all of your cousins
I don’t think that was meant for me
—Oops that was for Lori
—Am multi-tasking
His fiancé
Wants to get married
On a ship
That would sail
Around the
Too small
To accommodate everyone
And to transfer
From a ceremony
To a reception
As smooth and quickly
As they’d hope
—I just want a simple Jewish wedding
—And a great party with good music
—That’s all
—I don’t care about the flowers