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 .

Thursday, September 8, 2011

New Poem: A Recounting







A Recounting

I ran from the house on the hill

With its wailings down all the hours
Its marauding drinking Garbo
Of a mother, her robe open
Offering her flesh to the night

There was no safe place in that house
Where rage couldn’t come
With its heavy boots to kick us in the head

Then in a fever, into a lover’s arms
On the eve of the Revolution, the collective
heartbeat of rock and roll, 
the new-day manifestos
Safe there for brief ecstatic whiles
Pitching in the dark together

Then the poet left town and I
Was a wound on the cerulean dawn
I fled to a clinic, trying to still myself
Hold myself fast, in the sterile bed,
Its antiseptic and  white embrace, 
Histrionic nurses with gulls affixed to their hair

I fled yet again, a ship tossed on a frenzied sea
Seeking a harbor, if not arms then a lair
Out of the wind—my heart raced and I panted
In terror, climbing higher into ruins left
By forest fires

We the alienated took shelter together
In an A frame cabin but the cut on dawn's wrist
Flayed me; my new love was imprisoned
I was alone, alone with pine trees, jays
Traviata stuck on the last aria
Adio del passatto, she sang
and I wept for all of us

In this manner forever jettisoning myself
Away from trouble, away from arcane therapists
In the black magic of diagnoses and paradigms

And now, now in the sixth decade, I come home
To the house of the self I built with rejected stones
And lonely clay.  Walls refracting moonlight.
My bones, in my flesh, my eyes looking out

At the damp night:  had I known 
That I could do this,
Become my own mother and lover
What would I and those not unlike me 
Have been spared.



copyright Jenne' Andrews 2011

3 comments:

Mystic_Mom said...

In case my other comment didn't get through, this poem Jenne is powerful stuff. You, sister in the scar clan, tell so much and in the last two stanzas you mesmerize me. I love this poem and feel it too.

ShonEjai said...

I loved your piece! It is very well written and flows very nicely. I am starting a photography and poetry challange and I want to invite you to enter. I love your work and I do hope you will stop by.

johnallenrichter said...

You are incredibly talented! Oh this poem "A Recounting" just took me away. How wonderful! Especially this: Hold myself fast, in the sterile bed,
Its antiseptic and white embrace,
Histrionic nurses with gulls affixed to their hair........
Wow..... how reminiscent of so many things, not the least of which is the hospital adventures of one of my favorite poets ever, Anne Sexton... I truly enjoyed this and just signed up to follow you by email.... I'm sure you will be hearing from me again.... also, just visited your FB page, that white stallion is beautiful...