Annette Hayn was born in Breslau, Germany and lived in Berlin as a child. Her schoolmates played "Nazis and Jews" and she heard her parents worry about Hitler. She attended plays and concerts at the Jewish Kulturbund, where she heard Beethoven and watched Schiller's plays. The Jewish arts organization was finally prohibited from performing works by Aryans, and their orchestra conductor, William Steinberg, fled the country. Annette's parents sent her to an English boarding school, and thus, she escaped the Holocaust. (William Steinberg went on to become conductor at Pittsburgh and Boston). She married and had children, and while her husband played chamber music, she thought she had no art. Then she found poetry. I had the honor to publish most of her books, and this, her last collection, includes her selection of the best of the early books. After her death we folded in her posthumous poems into the 2001 collection, "Chamber Music." It's one of my most unusual book designs, which you can see in the ebook in full color. And you can own it for $3.
Chamber Music Ebook
Monday, June 19, 2017
Saturday, June 17, 2017
Although I've had a couple of Poet's Press titles on iTunes, I have avoided the Kindle business at Amazon because they require that the Kindle version be the only one being offered. Now, finally, The Poet's Press books will be available at very low prices in PDF, and later, epub formats. Here's the first one, selling for a mere $5.
Tales of Wonder at PayHip
Tales of Wonder at PayHip
Friday, June 9, 2017
I am having some quiet smiles as I scan a hardcover 1945 anthology titled "Speak of the Devil." It is all stories, poems and text about Satan, including excerpts from "Faust." The book is discarded from Holy Family High School Library in Massena, NY, according to various pages containing their rubber stamp. The book is exceeding pawed through by many readers, indicating that while most Catholic boys there didn't dare check it out, it was squirreled away into their rooms and carried about on various little field trips. Several pages are stained curiously and some smell of brimstone. There are some suspicious dried leaves (species indeterminate), a touch of candle wax, and a couple of penciled-and-erased attempts at Pentagrams. Ah, if this book could talk!
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This essay will appear in my forthcoming book collecting Sarah Helen Whitman's literary essays and selected poems. The footnote referenc...
The meal is, shall we say, monochromatic: in the cramped dining nook with a hard-white beam of afternoon sun chiaroscur...