Our Latest Book
The Complete Catalog
Sort the catalog by clicking the column headers. Click on a title to see more details, including reviews and a sample. Click on an author to read their bio. All links open a new window.
You can pay by check, made out to Moon Pie Press and sent to Moon Pie Press, 16 Walton Street, Westbrook, ME 04092. Please add $4.00 per book for postage and handling.
Or pay with PayPal or a credit card, which will ask you to choose ECONOMY shipping method, the only one available on the account, for all U.S. orders. $4.00 per book. Books are sent via media mail, the most cost efficient method. It may take a week or longer to receive a book. Email us at moonpiepress@yahoo.com with any questions, or about large or foreign orders. Thank you for supporting our small press and our poets!
Book Details
Reviews for MALDEN
by Tom Paine
David Surette's poems are sharp as a hockey skate, and slice the ice of Malden memories with the precise descriptiveness of Elizabeth Bishop. These are poems that consecrate with a benediction of blue-collar words that secret a Blakean soul-surprise. A collection to make one immediately call home to family, living and lost.
by David Livewell
These poems contain an entire storehouse of memories, emotions and legends from a Boston boyhood. Readers witness a whole series of initial encounters including nuns, schoolrooms, hockey, the Beatles, grade school crushes, and adventures with friends. Sharp details branded into a child's impressionable mind are brought back into focus with humor, candor, true affection, and the wisdom of the intervening years.
Sample from MALDEN
Young Gentlemen's School
My brother in long pants, me in short,
both in blazers, his powder blue, mine red.
Over our left breast, a crest signifying
nothing, just a Jordan Marsh generic
invention of upper class pretension.
My father carried his name over the right
breast of his dark blue shirt. That way the boss
didn’t have to know you, just grab you
by that handle, the roar of the presses
of the Herald Traveler ringing in his ears,
bathed in the ink of today’s news.
My mom sent my brother to Young
Gentlemen’s School in that crested costume
where he learned to fold a napkin, employ
a soup spoon and how to pull out a chair
for a girl. I don’t know what cut the experience
short, but it may have had to do
with the timing of that chair pull.
Thanks to him, I never had to go to
Young Gentlemen’s School even though I had
the ill-fitting suit. I never wore
my name over my left breast either
Return to Catalog