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, October 17, 2011

New Poem, Not Very Salutary



Ubi Caritas

Where charity is true, God himself is there.
--The Liturgy for Maundy Thursday

I am opening the blank page
One foot on the empty stage.
Outside is black and mute.
In here am I lost.
I drank stale coffee
Wiped my mouth with my lipstick

Rolled a tufted old ball
For the mangy old dog
The old bitch with far gone teeth.

What other creatures
Come to life at night
Like this one, whose angers
And dilemmas fall off at dusk
Leaving shreds of light
Like a thrift store kimono. 
I want something
Or perhaps someone

To dance here like my puppet
Against the silence of a cheap apartment
In October.
Perhaps I want a Latin troubadour
Someone uncomplicated and hungry

To rut with in the shadows
And push off the edge
Of the canyons of the night.

O Penance: I spent all day in bed
Frozen within, spine burning
Like a wick.  Yes.
I was harsh to someone
Who had been harsh to me

But I wore on and flinted down
The hours, using them up anyway
Like the truckers do, rolling in
From the Wyoming line
With their load of quiet ewes.

I long for the potency
Of the Kenworth, the Mack
The leathery hide of the driver
How he stares ahead with glassy eyes
Cigarette hung from his lip

Where can I buy
That nonchalance.
What have I done
With my tickets
To the homecoming pavilion
With the retro big band

Whose blaring out
Life is wonderful, pick
A partner, I now recall.


cc
Copyright Jenne' R. Andrews 2011

2 comments:

Mama Zen said...

I adore this. Gorgeous language, gorgeous intensity.

johnallenrichter said...

Wow...... This is breath taking Jenne..