WELCOME! BENVENUTI!

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, September 4, 2011

New Poem for Magpie Tales and Beyond: Old Truck

 Many thanks to Tess Kincaid for another great prompt at Magpie Tales....




Old Truck

Gonna buy you a Chevrolet, buy you
A Chevrolet
‘cause I can’t get enough of your love
Babe, can’t get enough of your love.

-- Donovan Leitch

I thought tonight, looking out
At the storm-rinsed fields
We need to harvest the good tire
From the Chevy truck that died 
One rainy autumn day
On the parcel’s northern quarter.

Our cemetery is there, of course—
Small graves for kittens
That once born wouldn’t stay awake--
The cairns marking where we laid
Not one but two piebald calves
To everlasting rest.

The old truck guards that spot
With some of our old man's presence
Cursing and whistling at sundown
Battered Coleman lantern dimming out
In solidarity while he walked the fence


And somehow that blue heap
Has been right for the spring cache
Of fox kits, even a look-out
For the matriarch raccoon
Who every year teaches 
her lumbering young
To climb clinging to the torn
Passenger seat for traction.

For a time I drove 
the old three-on-the-post
Ending up on the roadside
Unjamming oil-caked gears
With the screwdriver we kept
In the dash.

Another time I left it there, 
Called the tow yard
And changed my mind;
Then some appraiser came
To look over the place before
We decided not to sell, said it was
An eye sore we should haul off

To the rust-drenched garden
Of crushed and fire-gutted
wreckage up at the corner
Where the ospreys nest 
On the telephone pole,
But we couldn't do it then either.

That heap of scrap
is the last thing we have
Speaking to his steadiness
His broad shoulders
How he pulled an invisible
Cart behind him in every
Season, portaging Mother’s
Sapphire tears, a gunny sack
Of bruised and rotting apples
One could say were the harsh
Words among us.

I’ve made three pumpkin pies
For the freezer; you’ve been
Choppng and stacking deadfall.  You
Come to the door, cock an eyebrow.
We go down together


To the junk pile along the creek,
Where he tinkers on unseen
His head under the hood
To kneel in frosty grass, 
Confess our love.



copyright Jenne' Andrews 2011  jenneandrews2010@gmail.com

4 comments:

moondustwriter said...

Delightful and sad look back at time
A nice reflection from the prompt Jenne

Morning said...

rich words,

a hearty dish for magpie.

Reflections said...

Beautiful imagery of times long ago, passed on to others, learning the way. Still a wonderful tribute to the person, to the time walking the fenceline.

Jo Bryant said...

What beautiful imagery I say - even though it has been said before. :)