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Jenne' Andrews is an American poet. She has three published chapbooks including the recent Blackbirds Dance in the Empire of Love, Finishing Line Press 2013.

A full-length collection, Reunion, Lynx House Press, was published in 1983; after a long hiatus to raise Golden Retrievers in Colorado, recent work has appeared in The Passionate Transitory, Belletrist Coterie, The Adirondack Review and Vox Populi, a journal of culture, politics and poetry published and edited by the august Michael Simms.

A bilingual collection of "Italiana," Bocca, Voce, Delirio, with translations by Lorenzo Luciani, will be released by Finishing Line at the end of 2016 and her latest collection, And Now, the Road, a finalist for the Autumn House prize in 2014, will be released by Salmon Poetry Ltd, Ireland, a highly regarded international house, Jessie Lendennie, Publisher, circa 2017.

Andrews holds the MFA in Creative Writing/Poetry from Colorado State University, is a literary fellow of the National Endowment for the Arts, and was full-time Poet in Residence for the St. Paul Schools from '74-78. She lived in St. Paul from 1971-78 during the first wave of the Twin Cities literary renaissance, and spent the summer of 1973 in Reggio Calabria, Italy.

The poet lives in northern Colorado's Poudre River Valley with her husband, fiction writer Jack Brooks; the couple has recently imported two British Golden Retrievers and expects a litter in June-- see the Ardorgold website for details. Contact: jenneandrews2010@gmail.com .

Saturday, September 25, 2010

Autumn comes, leaf on leaf.  The foals off Lemay are now so round-bottomed, burly, leggy and sure of themselves they have to scrunch down to nurse.  Dazzle the stallion has done his job and pollinated the mares again.

I always wonder what will become of the unsold foals at weaning.  If I had royalties pouring in from a best seller I could buy the herd and rotate only my best mares instead of pouring more horses out into the world.

Beautiful Munch should be living with me but we have not yet made the transition, because it means I will be able to come and go from the house for shorter periods.  Not necessarily a good thing but detachment is a good word to describe that which must be set in motion.

Imagine trying to leave someone and a whole way of life and not being able to do it all the way, so that one is emotionally married and physically estranged.

If I could leave just now, I would love to buy a little RV and team up to safely emigrate to Mexico for awhile.  But I would need to lock up my housing voucher.  So, I can't do that.  I've thought of returning to St. Paul, where I carved out a life of my own many years ago (isn't Blogger efficient, saving every minute...)

I have spent two weeks going over my manuscript of poetry to get it ready to send and it is time to release all of the doves from my sleeve.  Still having bad nights in which I see how affected I am, my life is, by my injury-- and increasing pain as they all said.

I have the draft of a novel, the memoir, two mss of poetry, the two blogs...many projects, thank God.  My therapist said yesterday I needed to be as solicitous of myself as the kittens.  As I am of the kittens.  Ita dixit.

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