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 .

Tuesday, March 6, 2012

New Poem: Intermezzo, Posted for DVerse Open Link Night and Beyond...

Photo, from the Mosorrofa archive shared courtesy of Alessandro Niccolo...


Intermezzo

..e a parlare d'amore mi sforza
un desio ch'io non posso spegiar.

...to talk of love fills me
with a desire I can't explain. 

Cherubino, La Nozze di Figaro

I remember walking with Giuseppe
through the streets of Rome, how
he put his hand on my arm,
quietly and proudly stating:
We are a people of scientifici, 
artisti, filosofi.

Ma che memoria crudele—unkind
remembrance:
we stood before Vivaldi in the wax museum;
Pepe said we should cast our embrace
in paraffin.

 Fountains sang all around us,
sunlight bathed the peeling walls
of villa on villa.
We passed two mute lovers at a table,
their gelato melting, and he said to me
“Due morti,” – two dead ones.

So much tenderness and sorrow
in his eyes that day,
my departure a week away.
But we trekked on, as I thought
I should drink the last Valpolicella
of the Roman evening.
until only shadows tinted
my chalice.

Ii

Today a photo falls into my hands
of Calabrese before the war
gathered in the stone-paved street 
cut into the dark hills
of the Aspromonte,
on the Festa of San Dimetrio.
.
Those dark eyes, dark hair,
sepia multitude dreaming
of loaves and fishes--
supplicants of fading light.

I remembered the photo in the train station
that captured l' ultimo baccio—our final kiss,
now lost to me in a move.
I can still conjure his face
but how ancient those hours feel now,
like a Pompeian fresco time
relentlessly abrades—

Our lovemaking that night to Mozart,
the rain of tears in its key
of parting, staccato coda
on the terracotta roof.


to see more of these amazing photos click here... xj 

draft
copyright Jenne' R. Andrews 2012

5 comments:

Lorna Cahall said...

Oh Jenne, This just breaks my heart.

Brian Miller said...

you give such tangible texture to you memories...the sound of the rain...you bring us right there which allows us to feel their loss...nice jenne

Dark Angel said...

How beautifully romantic and beautifully sad.

Jannie Funster said...

Lovemaking to Mozart would be very good,I think!!

Mystic_Mom said...

The feel, the taste, the vibrancy is so you, your words transport me with you through your memories! Love it!