Pat Hegnauer was an actor, playwright, and director who returned to Rhode Island from New York. Her poetry has published widely and includes 2 River Review, Adagio Verse Quarterly, Lily Lit Review, Moondance, Newport Review, Pedestal Magazine, Poems Niederngasse, SaucyVox, Scrivener's Pen, SouthernHum, T-Zero, Tattoo Highway, The Centrifugal Eye, Thunder Sandwich, Tryst, Wicked Alice.
Peg has a chapbook entitled, A Few Uncompromised Letters (Premier Poets Chapbook Series, 2004) and her work is included in the anthology, Regrets Only (Little Pear Press, 2006).
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Pat Hegnauer: 1947 - May 17, 2017
'Patricia G. Hegnauer, 74, co-founder of 2nd Story Theatre, actress, director, teacher, playwright, and poet, passed away Wednesday, May 17, 2017 at Hope Hospice & Palliative Care Rhode Island. She was the longtime companion of Ed Shea. Born in Abington, PA, she was a daughter of the late Lewis George Barber and Mildred Elizabeth (Barber) Bostrand. Patricia was the loving mother of Jacob R. Richards-Hegnauer and his wife Liz and Rachel E. Hegnauer Nguyen and her husband Nguyen; loving grandmother of Noah, Petronila, and Emmett; sister of Sharon Lowell and the late Linda Hale.
A memorial service will be held Friday May 26, 2017 at 10 am in Grace Episcopal Church, 175 Mathewson Street, Providence, RI 02903.'
http://www.quinnfuneralhome.com/obituary/Patricia-G.-Hegnauer/Newport-RI/1728421
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► Pat's Origami micro-chapbooks & selected poems are available below.
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Origami Micro-chapbook |
Selected Poem(s) |
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Dear Sir Dear sir:
Enclosed please find my heart, my lost mind my shrink’s bill my prescription for prozac. My sweetest memory,
Hello from Rhode Island. The gulls are crying clams are tight it’s raining, again. • Pat Hegnauer © 2010
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Buried in Books I wanted to read to my dying father,
cart his recumbent body and mind to my room stacked with books; cluttered chamber where I was confused by men far greater than he. I wanted to confess the cot where I’d been ravished by Ginsberg, Miller, and Williams, plot to concoct his existential death, jacket the corpse with pages of Sartre, officiate by reading Prufrock's Song. But Lewis was deaf, determined to die ignorant, unread. Defeated, rejected, I retreated behind locked doors to hide my bookish heart in a heap of brilliant leaves. • Pat Hegnauer © 2009
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