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, October 30, 2011

Three New Poems: Awake, To Receive the World, On Cascading

 Please scroll down one post to the Dverse Call and Response poem.  


World of morning with your quiet street
And mute cottonwoods;
Listen to me complain

I wanted to rise in renewal and energy
But the night enfolded me in such bright wings
I could not let go into those waters
Where dreams ease our falling.

I am afflicted now, with days and weeks
Of wakefulness, my body crying out
For relief; 

I do not know what to do for it
Except to tell it that to sip at the cup
Of morning is better

Than to lie here in such lonely
Resolve hour on hour.

To Receive the World

I feel it now: there's a power in me
to grasp and give shape to the world.

I know nothing has ever been real
without my beholding it.
All becoming has needed me.
My looking ripens things
and they come toward me, to meet and be met.

Rilke, Book of Hours I

I carry deep griefs behind me
Like a bride her train
Yards of intricate lace
Scattered with beaded white roses

I kneel in the nave
With the dark postulants
To be marked with holy water
Fortified by the tenderness
Of the onlookers nearby

All becoming has the power
To be fully itself: even I
Cast out from the cloister
Because I have married
The uncommon summer
In order to receive the world;

Yet I think, I need this train
This silken river flowing
After me, its narratives
And undetected flaws.

On Cascading

In the night the heavy Earth is falling
from out of all the stars into loneliness.

We all are falling. This hand here is falling.
Just look: it is in all of us.

Rilke, Autumn, Book of Images

We see that gravity
Works its way into us—

Heavy stones of experience
We could not reshape to suit ourselves
Become an inner house

A house of sorrows for lamentation
And retelling

But then in the turning year
the geese lift up
From the fields to make their way

We ourselves rise
To go out and claim the apples
Heavy on the bough, waiting
For us

Of course we are falling
Into the earth;
That is the life span
The beauty and terror
Of opposites—

To arc up in our personhood
Dance among the verdant hours

And then like the palely flickering
Star in its last phase
We see the skin of the hands

Their translucence in the fine-boned
playing of dusk’s invisible
cello, and the tender
dying away of the last chord.

 copyright Jenne' R. Andrews 2011


Cathy said...

Magnificent Jenne. 'The beauty and terror of opposites' ... that just about says it all. And yet who would give up the beauty just to avoid the terror? The poem gives me much to ponder on this dull, gray day...

Promising Poets Parking Lot said...

it is magical to give stars and nights life.

Promising Poets Parking Lot said...

invite you to share a free verse with us today.

bless you.

Happy November,
you deserve the best.