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 .

Sunday, June 19, 2011

For One Shoot Sunday

See Chris Galford's photos of graffiti posted for One Stop Poetry's One Shoot Sunday here.  

The train passes car on car
Into the blue smoke of the twilight
In the engine-off reverie
We check our voicemails, our tweets

Our watches, our darkening moles
Our lab reports.
It’s not good to have to wait;
When we wait, we feel,
We conjecture, we obsess.

But how sweet to be stopped
As we all wish to be stopped at last
By something beyond our control
The arrival and departure of the trains

Their silver shivering past the eye
Their clockwork thunder. 

The train slows in the deepening dusk
On one car stenciled
By a profaning hand
“We’re all mad!”

The last car then
And we all head
Out of the gauntlet
Gunning ourselves through
Away from each other
Into the aromatic freedom
Of the summer fields.


copyright Jenne' R. Andrews
all rights reserved


libraryscene said...

I've always loved graffiti on railcars. Nice One Shoot, thanks for stopping by the blog ~

Sheila Moore said...

enjoyed the graffiti poem.

Ann Grenier said...

This is beautiful Jen. I was in that railroad car, could relate to every word, wonderful! Loved "We're all mad!" and "clockwork thunder".

Anonymous said...

Hey Jenne, glad to see the graffiti stirred the poetic in you! It's always curious, the things we find in the strangest of places...they can have a way of making it all seem so absurd, of a moment. "We're all mad!"...a tough crack on the human condition, that certainly sums it all, as the wind and the world race by...

Alegria Imperial said...

I so love it, Jenne, but I shouldn't quote the whole poem for you, should I? I love the precision of the lines you summed up in the graffit, "We're all mad", indeed, but would not acknowledge we are and so we pass through the 'gauntlet' back into ourselves--into our singular madness! Awesome!

Thank you for liking my first try at Shadorma at jornales. I'm sorry I haven't had time to 'stay' in your two blogs and let the earth slip by in the vacant spaces between stars...but I promise soon!