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 .

Friday, November 25, 2011

New Poem: Rilke Variation: Psalm of the Naif





Psalm of the Naïf


Oh tall tree of our knowing, shedding its leaves:
It's a matter now of facing the preponderance
of sky appearing through its branches.

Rilke, Autumn Tree  Uncollected Poems.

The great tree is an immense familiarity
like someone permitting herself to give freely
of shadows and indomitable essence

And in that giving to be strengthened
so that the topmost branches abrade
winter’s cold air.

And when this tree grieves it moves
imperceptibly with the wind
upholding the credo of silence;

The sad come unto it
leaving their surplus apples
at her feet.

The elated arrive
and make love nearby

Admiring her protective solidity,
how she is the look-out on the horizon

And braces up the overarching firmament
the stars proximal, flashing their code as if
flattered
to be grasped in her fists.

As for the sky itself
it gives and gives its cartography
of fire to us
the great clock of the hemisphere
turning, so that we may still
find our way.

What then in turn have we to proffer
the reciprocal world, the earth with its infinite
gifts of radiant color, all that comes into being
and dies back only to be replaced
by something even more remarkable?

Consider the barrier reef
the zebra fish, the breaching
pilot whale, the bearing in of the surf
against the coastal mouth
inviting, inviting

And then, the human newborn
Calling out in self-discovery,
shimmering, exquisite
naïf, waif, innocent.

c
copyright Jenne' R. Andrews 2011

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