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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 1st

  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

  —And her relatives I don’t know

  —Just want it to be over

  —Over

  Secret societies

  The Knights Templar

  Time travel

  Cryptozoology

  Yeti, Skunk apes

  Sasquatch

  One daughter Julie

  Home from school

  17 years old

  Blonde

  High wasted skinny jeans

  Blue crop top

  Been pouting

  Not eating much

  Not doing homework

  Stares out the window

  Plays with her hair

  Keep asking

  What’s wrong Julie?

  What’s wrong?

  Looks down

  Shakes her head

  We think it’s her boyfriend Nick

  Acting strange

  Distant

  Doesn’t know

  What’s going on

  Been together 9 months

  Not telling us much

  Tricksters

  Men in Black

  Skinwalkers

  Shape Shifters

  Jokers

  —Hey I found something

  —It’s a cool story

  Old newspaper clipping

  From 1903

  Daily News

  That Winged Monster

  Town of

  Badly Wrought Up

  ***

  And to turn them

  And to turn them

  A great form

  Of some kind

  Peter has proof

  That the demon exists

  Huge wings

  Of skin

  A great form

  Reveals itself

  Builds a wall

  Around the footprint

  With cardboard strip

  And paper clip

  Hold the track

  Two parts plaster of Paris

  One part
water

  Dries quickly

  The footprint

  A great form

  Of some kind

  I have proof

  I have proof

  Of the monster

  And to turn them

  From the darkness

  Night of

  October 2nd

  Soft winds

  Rain from the North

  Quiet

  OV White

  Sleeping

  Second story room

  Fisher and White Hardware and Furniture

  Jolted awake

  Abrupt rasping sound

  Outside his window

  Loud chocking

  Liquid

  Heard the stories

  In town

  About the mysterious monster

  The demon

  He held the cast

  Of its footprint

  3 toes

  Like a demon

  A great form

  Of some kind

  A flash of light

  In the darkness

  I behold Satan

  As lightning falls from heaven

  To open their eyes

  And to turn them

  From the darkness

  To the light

  Grabs his Browning Auto-5

  Self-loading shotgun

  Louder gurgling sounds

  Rasping

  Opens his window

  Peers out

  Into the darkness and rain

  Nothing

  Mist

  But his eyes adjust

  Looks up

  A dark figure

  Great form

  Of some kind

  Shadow

  On the cross member

  Of the telephone pole

  Runs downstairs

  Stares up

  Thing has wings

  A gargoyle

  Takes deliberate aim

  Slow exhalation

  Pulls the trigger

  Fires

  Does not fall to the ground

  Does not fall to the ground

  Shines its light

  On him

  Like a headlight

  Shot from his rifle

  No effect

  Only woke it up

  Powerful musky

  Sulfur odor

  Overwhelming

  Staggers to the ground

  Neighbor Sidney Gregg

  Heard the shot

  Runs to the door

  See what commotion

  Is about

  Sees White

  Trying to crawl away

  Monster descends

  From telephone pole

  Using huge beak

  For grip

  Descends

  Upon reaching ground

  Stands erect

  8 feet tall

  Lights from its forehead

  So bright

  Like a search beam

  Darts about

  Flaps its

  Featherless wings

  Sound of morning mail train

  In the distance

  Pulling into town

  Starts to run

  On all four feet

  Direction of old coal mine

  Wings extended

  Flap

  Lifts

  Sails up

  Disappears

  Mr. Gregg remembers

  He has a gun

  But it’s too late

  Too late

  And I saw an angel

  Come down from heaven

  Having the key

  To the bottomless pit