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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 .

Sunday, September 23, 2012

New Poem: Plunder, for The Mag, DVerse OLN and Beyond...



 Thanks to Tess Kincaid for this evocative photo prompt up Monday at The Mag.


 
  
David Salle, Flying Down


Plunder

for Tess Kincaid

Some days in autumn a gale force wind
steals in from Wyoming over the farmland.
The corn-chaff whirls and dances.
And above, the wild geese come in
from Manitoba to pick the fields clean,
flap their ragged wings against the verge—
flying in place in their stalwart V’s.  

From the bluff's windbreak, we watch them; 
we see their ruby hearts glowing
in their pulsing breasts.
We hear them marking time, calling
to one another even as we ourselves
condemn the lunatic weather of lack-- 
and wooed by the glint of gold 
below us,  break formation
to sunder down in tail-spin.


copyright Jenne' R. Andrews 2012 

11 comments:

Tess Kincaid said...

Exquisite, Jen...you know I love this...thank you, dear friend...

Catfish Tales said...

I too love watching such a scene as you so wonderfully describe here. Fall is in the air - YES

signed...bkm said...

this is absolute beauty...and the breaking of autumn in the heart...thank you...bkm

Brian Miller said...

lovely rather natural capture..yet it still conveys feeling as well...of the season perhaps...i like it though jenne....and i love the new background as well...

manicddaily said...

A wonderful poem. I really dislike David Salle, but a wonderful poem. k.

manicddaily said...

I wanted to say I like these lines esp:

against the lunatic weather of lack--
and wooed by the glint of gold

k.

Linda said...

I love the empty echoes in your poem that speak to the cold barren world autumn leaves in it's wake. A n incredible piece of writing, Jenne. Thank you for sharing. =D

flaubert said...

Some gorgeous imagery in this, Jenne.

Pamela

Anna Montgomery said...

Beautifully executed, I enjoyed the interplay of art and poem.

hyperCRYPTICal said...

Wonderful, wonderful words.

Anna :o]

Vicki Lane said...

Such beautiful description!