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 .

Monday, September 12, 2011

New Poem: Surrendered, Unbound


 Surrendered, Unbound

She was already unbound, like loosened hair,
surrendered like falling rain,
and generously offered to all creation.
She was already root.

Rilke, describing Eurydice risen.

Now mortal and surrendered
To how the reddened leaves fall
We see that we have built our gods
within the gilded empires of language.
Adorned them with the psalm
And Sanctus--

Holy, Holy, Lord of Hosts
We recite, in the nave
With its apex of light 
The swan-bright cross of crosses--


We say they suffer us
 Forgive, redeem
we root them in the gardens
of the heart


But is it not the work
Of the Singer to reimagine
that autumn of her own will, 
paint an alluring destiny
on the mind's blue haze

Uphold the fallible heart
In the moon’s sagacious mirror.

 ii

I and those like me too amphibious
For the desert of daily life
Came calling and believed
We heard a voice. 

And with the cascading years
The anvil of the death knell
Bearing nearer in its burning ship

Should not the singing at hand
Orpheic longing,  the beauty
Of Eurydice-become-world

Inviolate as evening light,
staunch our tears, and stay us?




copyright Jenne' R. Andrews 2011

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