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 .

Wednesday, December 7, 2011

New Poem: Rilke Variation - Here, Where Morning Was


Here, Where Morning Was

Let this darkness be a bell tower
and you the bell. As you ring,

what batters you becomes your strength.

Rilke  Sonnets to Orpheus II

Here where morning ebbs
and the tide of shadow comes in
the bells that rang over the valley
summoning the clear-eyed
to worship stilled now

I grieve my god.  Where
hast thou gone, One that came to me
where I languished in the blue foothills

Like the spindly newborn goat that
wanders off in an instant,
One whose intense beauty, shimmering
and ascendant
brought forth my tears?

When I encountered you
dressed in the fires of day
above the magnificent script
of the old oak trees
when I had been alone and mourning

I thought: this is something
that knows and cherishes me

And I gave you the pulsing ruby
of my heart; I on my knees
committed myself
alone, in the nave.

One day I turned to see your form
fixed in eternal anguish
and in a surge of guilt and
anger born of dispossession
thrust you from me. 

Yet, like the silver in the ore
the nomad star surrounded
by no others

I sense you, that intimacy
within my unlit room
where I placed the small stones
of my wrongdoings and fears
before you;

So it was that I took you into me
let you brand me with
your signature
and companion me in the long nights.

What has become of you.  Did I
turn away, to the old alchemies
of midnight, an old soporific

As if it were the consecrate Host,
foolishly positioning myself
on the cliff’s edge?

Here, where morning was
and the tide of shadow ebbs
candled bells of yearning
ring forth on ice-cast air.


 cc

copyright Jenne' Andrews 2011

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