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 .

Friday, April 19, 2013

New Poem: A Honeyman Cometh

(It's much better now-- revised)


A Honeyman Cometh

And that one put his hands on me
and I arched my back

and there was honey aplenty
for him at the gate—

April sun streamed in and a choir
of whispers exulted in the body's resurrection.

Persephone wiped away Demeter’s
tears and seeking out a means
to come one unto the other,

we shed the coat of hesitation
and like the dappled, surging herd

on Connemara, like the anthem
of rain on marble at Pere Lachaise

or the exultate of sun-white laundry
hung in the salty sea-air at Palermo

there was that uprising of the black swans
that had been landlocked and wing-

clipped in desire's long dormancy
and together we were two yeses 

released and sweat-gilded
in the applauding dawn.




copyright Jenne' R. Andrews 2013






1 comment:

Maureen said...

Lovely and joyous.