Ascent

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Authors: Matt Bialer

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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

www.BIZARROPULPPRESS.com

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

www.theauthorsalley.com

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

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