Welcome....

Poet Jenne' R. Andrews was born in Albuquerque and has spent the last thirty years in Colorado. Her literary odyssey includes seven years in the Twin Cities and ten weeks in Italy.

But it is the American West that figures most strongly in Andrews' oeuvre and gives rise to her most lyrical work. Her newest collection of poetry, Blackbirds Dance in the Empire of Love, a short but powerful collection turning on her love of place, is forthcoming from Finishing Line Press this year. Her poems have appeared in many signature journals, most recently in the new The Passionate Transitory, Belletrist Coterie, The Adirondack Review, and Poets for Living Waters.

Previous collections include Reunion, Lynx House Press; The Dark Animal of Liberty, Leaping Mountain Press, and In Pursuit of the Family, Minnesota Writers Publishing House, edited and published by her mentor, Robert Bly.

Ms. Andrews is also a former full-time Poet in Residence for the St. Paul Schools, a fellow of the National Endowment for the Arts in Literature, and earned the Master of Fine Arts Degree (MFA) in Creative Writing-Poetry at Colorado State. She has taught at the University of Colorado and has been an associate editor of The Colorado Review. She posts work in draft to this blog and reviews contemporary poetry at Loquaciously Yours.

Contact her on Facebook as Jenne R Andrews and Twitter @jenandrewspoet. e-mail: jenneandrews2010@gmail.com .

Tuesday, December 25, 2012

New Poem: Christmas Morning 2 a.m.




Christmas Morning 2 a.m.

The new snow gleams
on the hedge, inheritance
of ermine. 
The men and boys in the Vatican
nave, incandescent Gloria,
all Italia attentive to the night.

How much we want this world
to be the fruit of grand intention,
our spinning through the abyss,
at the volition
of One love, relentless.

How much we ache for reassurance—
for that Nativity to have brought love
unto us, for the mind to reel,
all doubt fall away.

Stupor, soporific, name of names;
Holy Spirit, wholeness of surrender
to the wintry earliest morning.
Palestrina, Pieta, Bethlehem,
cantor singing Luke,

the patriarchs in their red caps:
stern similitude,
every prayer a filament
of yearning.

The young archangels
supplicants with one voice--
the restless heart, unbinding,

how profane the flesh,
with all this earth-bound
fear and wanting.



copyright Jenne' R. Andrews 2012
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1 comment:

Timoteo said...

The ego bound existence is all about those two things...and only those two things. (You were up late waiting for Santa...did he come?)

December 25, 2012 at 9:51 PM

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