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 .

Saturday, October 29, 2011

New Draft: Nightfall, Late October, for DVerse....

Claudia Schonfield at DVerse Poets Pub makes the excellent point that life is a series of conversations, calls and responses, statements or questions and answers.  This is certainly in keeping with what the great poet Rilke postulated in every poem that he wrote and what has pulled me into his orbit with my variations on his work-- they are most of all responses to his call to observe and dance with the immediate world. The draft below was written not in the vein of my Rilke variations but in response to the challenge:  a conversation.

Nightfall in October

I want to capture the residual daylight
In the Mason jar on the counter but you
Stay my hand
Let the night fall you say

Crows flap along the seam of twilight
Prophets of a long winter
I hate the cold you tell me
And I reply
Let the cold come

And then I see that really
You’ve assented to the dust; it falls
Down through the ceiling coating
Your hands and head
Through the blurring air I speak:
Stop the dust.

I can’t stop it, you answer
And how right you are—now the last
Indigo of the sky is filled in
And the flaking snow of the interior
Is piling in the corners
Of our eyes, our mouths

What now
And you shake your head
I love that dress of dusk
You call to me
As I recede
Like a broken skiff carried off
By the water
Even as it is pulled under

Now, I am beyond the reach
Of your loving, imperiled hand.

copyright Jenne' R. Andrews 2011


Kerry O'Connor said...

Your poem speaks to me of the call of time, dust, twilight, the cold of the grave. I found the mood to be most sombre, and there is an uneasy tension between the speakers. Very well done, Jenne.

Claudia said...

i much like the image of capturing daylight in a jar on the counter..oh if it only would be possible...i had countless jars filled with it..with daylight and sunshine..also love the dress of dusk..