Writing By Mark
Within the next year an anthology of Mark’s writing will be published by The Bill Hatke Fund of KAW Council. Check on this website for announcments concerning the publication date.
Mark’s legacy in writing consists of two large file drawers full of writing. Much of it is notes on meetings, readings and infomational talks. However there is a fair amount of poetry, ruminations, journal entries, autobiographical writings, letters to friends and his magnificent letters to the editor and various officials. While only the letters to the editor and the like are in a finished state, it was Mark’s intent that his writing be preserved. His clear voice frequently comes through in this way and it is our intent to present it in a volume that covers the range of his talent.
These were the last poems Mark sent to KAW via e-mail, Sept, 2009
I first walked to school when I was three.
Mom claimed I couldn’t remember,
had heard the story from her.
She didn’t include the part,
me standing in the greader ditch
midst dry, dead weeds
Who wouldn’t head for school?
Kids yelling, screaming, on the swings
I don’t remember teacher,
and Vincent carrying me home.
That’s Mom’s story.
Teacher unwelcomed me!
Didn’t want me there!
No wonder at six I was eager
to go to first grade,
and play with children!
I rode with Vincent to town,
first grade and second.
Coming home one day near dark
(Vince had janitor work after school)
a blizzard blowing.
The car slides sideways into the ditch.
No getting it out
Vince and I started walking -
Half mile to the dirt road,
hedgetrees were small protection
from the wind
A mile to the corner, then west.
I was getting a little chilly.
Being with my big brother
I had no doubt we were OK.
Quarter mile west
and Vince and I turned into Seitz’s driveway
I hadn’t met Mrs. Seitz. They were Dunkards.
Sooo warm inside! And Mrs. Seitz was canning sausage!
OOOOO! What a savory smell!
She offered us hot sausages,
and we ate a couple.
We were out again, walking the country road west.
Trees protected us this mile,
then down along the creek
among the elms.
Finally we headed up the hill to home.
That sausage really kept me warm!
Next morning the wind had stilled
The ground was white,
adazzle with undalating drifts.
Inside we listened to news on the radio.
A traveler out of his car along the highway
hardly a mile beyond ours,
Tangled in barbed wire