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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, August 7, 2012

New Poem: For Al - Posting for DVerse OLN and Beyond....

Ecce il uomo....
 



For Al 

After Watching The Godfather I,II and III

Watching you dance draws me in;  watching you romance
polishes the stars to a breath-caught shining-- the scar

scripted on your jaw line, you the offer I can’t refuse,
dream-lover,  bad-boy hungry;  your dark eyes have in them

fish that love to swim in silver, Sicilian smolder; for three
nights I’ve kissed your shoulders and caressed your seal-fur

hair in mothering ardor.  And with your tapered fingers
you erase the lack-luster, the homes and husbands

gone to ruin; loving me the night long all the dark years
collapse into summer; even over plundered hills 

where black eagles hover and old wounds hide. Death has
its midnight thrall but you breathe me back, you who see

the complex grief silvering my hair, drink my yeses, seek
my rapture, whispering that we belong together. Above all

I see, nocturnal knife to my bread, incarnate mariner, that
eyes to eyes in holy aftermath, we are each absolved.







xx

copyright Jenne' R. Andrews 2012

10 comments:

Maureen said...

". . . rock salt of their /dislike. . . .": such an interesting image, given the properties of the material.

I especially like this standout: "an inference of the divine in the eye of a robin".

The concluding lines are both ironic and sad.

Thank you for your lovely comments on my poem.

Brian Miller said...

ha. so pacino does it for you eh? smiles....i am not above seeing why...

Rosemary Nissen-Wade said...

Wow! Searingly gorgeous and honest!

Semaphore said...

Such deft brushstrokes you paint of your subject from the palette of celluloid! It's different, seeing the power of your craft in a more compact poem, rather than where your discourse takes on a more epic scope. Just as effective here.

manicddaily said...

Well done, making love to an icon, and he rather smoldering and remote to begin with. We used to see him quite a bit years ago. A very intense charisma that could shut out whatever he did not want to deal with. Quite amazing.

Well done poem. k.

Mary said...

A feast of words here! It's been a while since I watched the Godfather series. Maybe I should think about doing it again. Smiles!

Arron Shilling said...

One of my favourites too . . .
you celebrate the actor, the role
and the art with great enthusiasm
and skill . . .

the final 2 lines are icing in this tasty cake . . .

Go AL!!! :D

Beachanny said...

Oh...
the delight for me in this poem is more likely the set and the props..all metaphors for another staging of a new, electric, fantasy-come-true passion. It's never too late to wrap oneself in an old-world splendor! Beautifully written!

Heaven said...

Fantastic writing ~ I do admire how painted him with Sicilian smolder...he can drink all my yeses too ~ Enjoyed the sensuality brimming just underneath your words ~

Timoteo said...

All the dark years collapse into summer...
love that line.
You take Al and I'll take Monica Bellucci and we'll have Italian tonight.