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 .

Tuesday, April 5, 2011

Poem for One Shot Wednesday - Idolatry

As if anyone had spare time, I'd like to invite you to read my blogged memoir, Nightfall in Verona-- good feedback thus far.  Scroll down for One Shot Poem, for the One Stop Poetry meme. 


For sca

More your mother than your sister for a long time
I look at the photos you take of unfurling distances.  Yes
I still weep for us, how we have woven durable lives
from years that scythed our volition down to stubble---

Marauding mother, withered father, and the green shoots
we were,  pushing back up in the aftermath. There you are
proudly displaying a cutthroat in its sun-latticed net, on skis 
a fleece-swaddled blur in a spring storm, and with your third  

Lab, a tuned-in  pup who loves you by returning what you 
throw into cold vastness where instinct kicks in early.
At least we have windows now—cyber panes through which
we can see one another to know that we are alive

Carrying on-- and at times those windows
doors to a star-scape for disembodied contact.  Nothing 
has arrested our song or how it is to paint light.  How you
have mastered filling a canvas with  sunrise

I will never fathom. 
Alleluias rise to the tongue to think of it, and I wonder why
I have sentenced myself to watching you from a stanchion
of not walking-not living.  But we make dawn within ourselves

To step into, the black coffee softened with cream and honey. 
We trek on, around the inner switchback road cut into the green
cliffs, our own Rockies in their sapphire towering, with our
frontier intensity and will, sometimes looking down, veering

And catching ourselves. In a dream, the dream that Spring
becomes when one wonders how many more might be waiting around
the crook of the years,  I walk a corridor, a long brunette braid
down my back.  It is a long way to the courtyard of roses, my idea

Of  heaven at the last, where a whole geneology awaits, wavering
there like paper geishas to take us through 
but I hold on, urging myself over a disintegrate path, 
in my hands a silver pewter dish, a pale yellow candle it is my task

To keep burning—for us, for you, and the wearing down 
now on its cusp. 

copyright Jenne' R. Andrews 2011 all rights reserved 


Pete Marshall said...

i like the flow...the read...and the way you have used words in this...fallow, cuthroat, marauding,fathom, switchback...these are great words to pull off in verse..cheers pete

Brendan said...

A fine, fine verse missive, speaking from the heart of a place that survived and then made a shared garden of it. So many delightful lines, but I especially resonated with that lab pup

"...Who loves you by returning what you have thrown
Out into cold vastness where instinct kicks in early ..."

Stellar work as always. - Brendan

Semaphore said...

You write some of the most exquisite poetry I've ever read, whether on paper or online. The precision of your words, the innate rhythm, the accessibility of emotion - all of these are things I strive for and read in your work. So wonderful.

jen revved said...

Pete, Brendan, Sam, mille gracias-- xxxj

Luke Prater said...

Interesting piece; enjoy quality quatrains that intentionally leave out any rhyme. These are such. Appreciate your depth of knowledge of the craft, it shows here unequivocally. enjambment used very nicely (though the caps at beginnings of stanzas when running over stanza-breaks impeded the flow a little for me).

Strong write, Jenne'

jen revved said...

Thanks, Luke-- I revised accordingly. xj