Review
All That, Stammering
The Anchorage
Aubade
The Bruise Of This
Cease, The Heart Is With Me
Chapel Of The Miraculous Medal
Continent's Edge
Difficult Body
Fourteen Things We're Allowed To Bring To The Underworld
From A Vacant House
Given In Person Only
How I Was Told And Not Told
Hunt
In The Winter Of This Climate
Letter Written To A Verse By Karen Carpenter
The Mare
No Place Like Home
On Opening
One Explanation Of Beauty
Pale Notion
Peonies
Predictions About A Black Car
The Shot; 1929
The Shot; 1932
The Shot; 1993
The Shot; Duluth 1929
Suture
Take Good Care Of Yourself
Thirst
This Heat, These Human Forms
Through An Opening Door
To Sleep In A New City
The Trick
Unmade Bed
Winter Of Heaven, Winter Of Ash; Elegy
Winter Of Heaven, Winter Of Ash; In Brooklyn
Winter Of Heaven, Winter Of Ash; The Dream
Winter Of Heaven, Winter Of Ash; The Visit Home
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Table of Poems from Poem Finder®
From the Back Cover
"The last time I was so struck as I am now reading Mark Wunderlich's new collection of poems, I was gazing at an immense Greek vase, on whose elegantly fired red and black surface were warriors, at once flaunting and shielding their nakedness, struggling with their fates, or crushed by them in eerily erotic attitudes. The Anchorage bravely takes up the raw mess of desire and pain, the cold ache of longing and loss, and in sleek and searing poems exposes the way we live now to the larger powers of the racing heart and the radiant imagination. This is a scary, sad, ecstatic, astonishing book-and a brilliant debut." (J. D. McClatchy)
"In Mark Wunderlich's lexicon, the body is the anchorage for the soul; it's the place where the soul hooks itself to the only thing that keeps us here, alive. The title poem of this wonderful book begins with an image of a twelfth-century postulant sealed-as a child-in a wall. For nearly a decade her only passageway to the outside world was a small aperture through which she received food and communion.
"The anchor here is many things: Wunderlich's steady and unblinking, wide Midwestern range of memory, now cut by two coasts, imagined, scaffolded, real, held fast, American. The anchor is the body: its rootedness and strength, its injury and vulnerabilities. These are poems provocative and passionate, and muscular in their rigor and form. 'Rapture, sweet release,...something equally consummate and strange.' This is a wondrous first book." (Lucie Brock-Broido)