Mark Wunderlich: “I Sometimes Hear the Call to Return”

Photographers Unknown, I Sometimes Hear the Call to Return

This was the time of year we would go into the frozen forest—
leaves stripped, only a few birds ticking in the bare trees, fields shorn,

corn trash a dull gold. Sometimes snow would fall, and I can recall
the exact sound of its muffling, quieting whiteness crackling down.

Of our hunting party, only two of us are alive—
grandparents long dead, father and nephew dead, their bones

all on the ridge top with the others. The town is shabbier now,
middle classes disappeared, leaving the ancient, the angry and the slow.

My cousin is returning home—to a place he reviled—
having run out his luck in the West. His plan

is to move into the garage on the old homestead, which of course
is no plan at all. I sometimes hear the call to return,

come back to the shady valley with its reliable breeze,
the crumbling brindle bluffs, a brandy old fashioned made with 7UP

waiting for me on the sticky bar of the Golden Frog,
recognition registering with those I meet when they see

my father looking back from inside my aging face. That place
don’t fade—the one that made me—bone isotopes belie

the soil’s iron and chalk, my talk inflected (sorry sounds like sore).
What’s more is that I want to go, but won’t.

I’ll stay here, 2000 miles away, amidst an older Eastern decay.
It turns out I have some local dead here as well:

Fifth Great-Grandfather Christian Servoss—colonial Dutchman
from the Palatine, who died in some wintertime foolishness

crossing the frozen Mohawk. His two boys watched him
and his horses drown in that not-very-impressive watercourse.

One of those boys made it to Iowa, and disappeared,
but not before he reproduced, becoming Fourth Great-Grandfather

to yours truly, and so on. My remaining colonial dead
lie in the dirt near Palatine Bridge, their names effaced

from marble by acid rain. I wish I didn’t care about them, but I do.
It matters to have this ghost clan near—this family I never knew.

Mark Wunderlich, My Local Dead, 2022, Poem-A-Day, Academy of American Poets

Born at Winona, Minnesota in 1968, Mark Wunderlich is an American poet and educator. A serious poet who experiments with content, form and style, he constructs compositions whose lines conjure memories and sensory experiences. Wunderlich’s work covers a wide range of themes: the struggles of nature, the shared essence of man and beast, the preservation of self-respect, and human desire.

Raised in the rural Buffalo County of Wisconsin, Wunderlich attended Concordia College’s Institute for German Studies before transferring to study English and German literature at the University of Wisconsin. After earning his Bachelor of Arts, he attended New York City’s Columbia University School for the Arts where he earned his Master of Fine Arts. Wunderlich’s graduate thesis at Columbia was the poetry collection, “The Anchorage”, which he finished in 1999 while living in Provincetown, Massachusetts. At Provincetown, he became friends with poet Stanley Kunitz, a mainstay of the town’s literary community and a former New York State Poet Laureate.  

Mark Wunderlich’s debut collection of poems “The Anchorage” was  published in 1999 by the University of Massachusetts Press and later received the Lambda Literary Award. Accepting the body as the soul’s anchor, this autobiographical collection of poems examines the body’s movement through a landscape of desires. Presented through lyrical letters and intimate dialogues, the diversely formatted poems discuss the dichotomies between love and illness, urban and rural life, homosexual desire and familial tensions. 

Wunderlich’s second collection, “Voluntary Servitude”was published in 2004 by Minnesota’s Graywolf Press. The protagonist in these poems is both servant and master to family, memory, sex and lover. The physical and psychological limitations and releases of relationships, particularly at the breaking point, are examined through these works. Using a variety of poetic forms at different levels of emotion, Wunderlich presents these complications of human desire through a series of images set in alternating vistas from rural Wisconsin to exotic destinations such as Austria and Turkey.

Mark Wunderlich’s third collection of poems was the 2014 “The Earth Awaits” published by Graywolf Press. The majority of these poems are what Wunderlich calls ‘house prayers’ fashioned after those in the late eighteenth-century prayer-books written by Pennsylvania-settled German immigrants. The title itself, “The Earth Awaits” is a reference to an Anglo-Saxon ritual prayer song said or sung during the honey harvest to prevent the swarming of bees. In these poems, Wunderlich evokes, using folklore and historical sources, the time when every setting, thought and action was permeated with ritual. 

The fourth collection by Wunderlich is the 2021 “God of Nothingness” published by Graywolf Press. The poems in this collection again address, with the same personal, queer and rural aesthetics, the issue of ordinary rural life in the natural world. These poems embrace regret, grief and death as they dwell on the issues of family bonds, nature, and the experience of one’s self identity. Infused with familial ghosts and haunting memories, this entire collection serves as a narrative map of Wunderlich’s life. 

Mark Wunderlich was awarded two fellowships from the Fine Arts Work Center in Provincetown, Poetry Fellowships from the National Endowment for the Arts and the Massachusetts Cultural Council, the Wallace Stegner Fellowship from Stanford University, and a Fellowship from the Amy Lowell Trust, created in honor of imagist poet Amy Lawrence Lowell. 

As an educator, Wunderlich has taught at Stanford University, Ohio University, Columbia University, San Francisco State University and Barnard College. At Vermont’s Bennington College, he is a member of the literature faculty and Director of the Graduate Writing Seminars. 

Mark Wunderlich’s official site is located at: https://www.markwunderlich.com

Note: The Virtual Memories Show has a podcast interview, Episode 417, with Mark Wunderlich located at: https://chimeraobscura.com/vm/

As a general note for those interested in poetry, I would recommend the online Contemporary Poetry Review which contains a wide range of both contemporary and historic writers. A review of Wunderlich’s “The Earth Awaits” is also on this site: https://www.cprw.com