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 .

Sunday, January 27, 2013

New Poem: Mood Tupelo, for The Mag and Beyond.



To see the image used in today's The Mag meme, click here.


Mood Tupelo

She’s as sweet as tupelo honey
She’s an angel of the first degree
She’s as sweet as tupelo honey
Just like honey from the bee.

Van Morrison 

I was never one for high fidelity,
more like the wanton barn swallow
floating on air currents, besieged
by tumescent lovers
blood-breasted in the blur of their wings.

I went looking for my muse
in the pile of classical LPs,
all bequeathed by the parish priest
who saw my mother sashay
in her Tupelo two-step,  nude,
past the slatted doors.

You don’t know what else
I saw and heard. 
Come into the shadows with me
to hear our scotch-soaked secrets.

He never said we were all so damned
we wouldn’t one day trek to heaven.
But he came here in his Advent stole
to love my mother naked
and kept me quiet with a vinyl windfall
of Beethoven and Brahms.


copyright Jenne' R. Andrews 2013



2 comments:

Maureen said...

I was hoping someone would pick up on that Tupelo cover. Really like that opening line "I was never one for high fidelity", with all its various meanings. So nicely played out, Jenne.

Mystic_Mom said...

Bella! Brava!