WELCOME! BENVENUTI!

Professor Jenne' Rodey Andrews, M.F.A., is a highly regarded American poet, critic and memoirist. Recent work has appeared in former Autumn House Publisher Michael Simms' Vox Populi (over fifteen poems) The Passionate Transitory, Belletrist Coterie, The Adirondack Review and elsewhere.

Andrews' current ms of poetry Beautiful Dust was a finalist for the 2014 Autumn House and she recently withdrew the work from Salmon Ltd, Ireland to protest unmoderated bashing of American writers by Irish writers on the press's social media pages.

Her most recent collection, Blackbirds Dance in the Empire of Love, lauded by Robert Bly and endorsed by poets Jim Moore, Dawn Potter and Patricia Kirkpatrick, appeared from Finishing Line Press 2013. A booklength collection Beautiful Dust was 2014 finalist for the Autumn House Press Poetry Prize and solicited by Salmon Press, Ireland. Turning on work set in the West and her native Southwest the collection is under submission to 2019 publication prizes.

Andrews is currently hard at work on two new memoirs: The Shame Garden: A Woman Writes of Isolation, Despair and Self-Redemption, which in intensely wrought and imagistic prose poetry chronicles the anatomy of shame; it is the poet's late-in-life tour d'force, sending the reader through Dante's circles of hell, the sewers of Paris ala Les Mis, mano a mano confrontations with the Alien mater familias, fusing literary and vintage cinematic works in an elliptical dance with human history and experience of being Other. The poet has no idea of what will become of this work but hopes it finds a home as memoir with a small press.

A four part interview with Andrews went live at poet Maureen Doallas's blog Writing without Paper in 2010.

Other collections include the full-length Reunion, Lynx House Press, The Dark Animal of Liberty, Leaping Mountain Press, and In Pursuit of the Family, edited and published by Robert Bly and the Minnesota Writers Publishing House.

Her work has been anthologized in Heartland II, Northern Illinois University Press, 25 Minnesota Vols. I and II, Wingbone: An Anthology of Colorado Poetry, Women Poets of the Twin Cities, Oil and Water and Other Things that Don't Mix, and elsewhere.

Essays have appeared in MPR's Magazine, The Colorado Review, The Twin Falls Times News, and miscellaneous journals.

IIt is Prof. Andrews' belief that one's collection of poetry must be judged on the quality of its craft, voice, and language, not its themes.


With Mr. Bly the memoirist Patricia Hampl wrote a forward to her first collection and is considered the "mother" of the modern American memoir although she arguably shares this title with Mary Karr for Karr's The Liar's Club. Andrews mentored Karr in Minneapolis when the former was circa 19.

Professor Andrews has had an illustrious teaching career at Colorado State University and the University of Colorado where she taught prelaw students in the making of argument and the issues-oriented seminar The American West. She was the highest rated instructor in the University Writing program during her tenure at Boulder.

Currently Professor Andrews writes daily at age 70, having been rendered housebound in 2007 in a fall from a horse, at home with her lover and companion of thirty years the fiction writer Jack Brooks, ten new poems a month, and is working on an additional memoir about her pioneer roots, "Territory Fever: The Story of an Albuquerque Family," posted as chapters are finished to Loquaciously Yours where the poet has produced over 450 essays in the past decade on a variety of topics as well as book reviews. Upcoming: a review of Ethna McKiernan's new Salmon Collection.

Ms. Andrews is also a Civil Rights Advocate advocating in 2019 for the civil rights of the poet Ping Wang who recently won the AWP Award for Memoir.

In 2015, after a long battle, Andrews extracted her MFA in Creative Writing/Poetry from Colorado State University, begun and finished in the 80's, self-advocating under the Americans with Disabilities Act. In fact Andrews was instrumental in the Colorado Commission on Higher Education's approval of the MFA at CSU.

She is a literary fellow of the National Endowment for the Arts, the Minnesota Arts Board Fellowship, was short-listed for a Bush Foundation Fellowship, 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, one of the first poets to inaugurate The Loft Literary Center, co-founding Women Poets of the Twin Cities which as noted boosted the careers of Mary Karr, Ethna McKiernan and others, and spent the summer of 1973 in Reggio Calabria, Italy which gave rise to the "voluptuous prose-poetry" memoir Nightfall in Verona posted in entirety here, designated by arts maven and former friend Caroline Marshall of NPR The Writer Reads as "fabulous."

Circa 2010 Andrews also founded a poetry group on She Writes which included Dawn Potter, Katha Pollock and other noteworthy writers, and supported the work of Meg Waite Clayton, fiction writer in addition to mentoring a number of other up and coming writers.

There is no way to estimate the influence on the lives and work of the some 12,000 students k-12 she met and encouraged in the seventies, but the poet James Tolan has attributed his career to her work as it was anthologized in Heartland II, Lucien Stryk, Editor. Professor Stryk read the title poem of In Pursuit of the Family on NPR.

As noted the poet lives in northern Colorado's Poudre River Valley with her husband, fiction writer Jack Brooks; the couple's daily life is centered around writing and enjoying their beautiful imported Golden Retrievers;-- see the Ardorgold website for details. Contact: jenneandrews2010@gmail.com.

Signed copies of the Blackbirds Dance collection, endorsed by James Moore, Patricia Kirkpatrick and Dawn Potter, are available from the poet. She posts new work below and is available for mentorship and virtual readings via Skype.

She is happy to critique ms. of poetry, fiction and memoir for a small fee.

Tuesday, February 15, 2011

For One Shot Wednesday

Bereft

One winter day I drove out
To the county line
To the Auschwitz of sheep there—
--Forgive me--

That is to say the thousands
Kept moving by small dark workers
In the sea of the feedlot 
Tide of sheep belonging
To someone rich and absent


Piling on each other
Fattening in the long troughs
of oily grain
Lambs slipping from the crushed
And calling ewes
The lambs disappearing
Into the muck

I had come for the "bum" and wet ones
Five dollars a head
Those few pulled in time
From the matriarchs culled
And shorn to bleeding skin
Sent with their eyes rolling
And shaking legs
On to slaughter

Although the wind blew hard
It could not drown out these voices
And I nearly froze in place
Surveying the undulant fields
Of sheep
And there were no lambs.


I turned back to the car
And then I saw a patch of white 
in the weeds
Like a rag.
I discerned a small face
With eye-slits

And I heard a thin cry
And I pulled out a towel
And went to the lamb there
Catching it to my chest
Inside my coat

I headed back along the wide
Black highway
Cutting through the winter hills
I bought goat’s milk
And I fed the lamb

And I built a fire
And held the lamb to me,
Rocking it
In the rising February wind.

I heard its small voice
In the night
I warmed the milk
And soothed the lamb

And in spite of inner
Shaming voices
What do you want with this lamb

Kept the fire
On high burn.

No one wants to admit
To being a lamb
We want to be the lions
Of our own lives

But look
How still
And full
And calm now
The lamb pulled from the weeds
Dried and fed.

xx
Jenne' R. Andrews Copyright 2011
All Rights Reserved

14 comments:

Gerry/Strummed words said...

How sweet to rescue innocence....

Brian Miller said...

smiles...so beautiful...the lamb...i think we all need our times as lambs and without it we grow firther into the lion...

Fireblossom said...

Don't mistake my meaning, but the first half of this almost made me ill. That is to say, it was blisteringly effective, to use the cold parlance of critique, when that's not the language this deserves.

I love the second part, and the rescue. Not just because I love animals and want a sappy happy ending (though i DO) but because of what it says about kindness and its true value, and the thought-provoking bit about lions and lambs.

hedgewitch said...

Images and parables, and I, like Fireblossom, had my stomach turned in the beginning, as I often do when I think of how we harvest animals and rape the world for our convenience, but there are worlds within worlds here, and the ending carries much redemption.

Ami Mattison said...

This is beautiful, Jen, especially the ending. I like the mirroring of these lines: "And I fed the lamb," "And I soothed the lamb." Also, it's interesting to relate "those inner shaming voices" with "no one wants to admit to being a lamb." Great work!

Laura said...

I love the setting of this poem. How you portray vulnerability in the context of mud and night, and wool. I found this very compelling! Thank you for writing!

Jenne' R. Andrews said...

thanks very much each of you-- am making rounds. Hard to write of the sheep, an image haunting me for many years, but so necessary to call things by their names, yes? xxxj

patriciacaspers said...

No one wants to admit
To being a lamb
We want to be the lions
Of our own lives

These lines are so surprising and fabulous!

Great work, Jenne'.

Beachanny said...

Uhoh..I closed too early...one more time.
I think this is very important. I felt a bit squeamish (a bit of guilt) at the first part. I like my halcyon views of sheep quietly grazing in green fields; but the pain and hurt of the first part was redeemed in the second canvas you painted. I felt a connection to the rescuer. Thank you. Gay @beachanny

Jenne' R. Andrews said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Anonymous said...

One winter day I drove out
To the county line
To the Auschwitz of sheep there—
--Forgive me--

The mention of Auschwitz set the tone for this very serious poem.

Immediately the scripture,

“What do you think? If a man has a hundred sheep, and one of them goes astray, does he not leave the ninety-nine and go to the mountains to seek the one that is straying?


No one wants to admit
To being a lamb
We want to be the lions
Of our own lives

Absolutely powerful observation of the human condition, and yet the lamb found safety and confort:

But look
How still
And full
And calm now
The lamb pulled from the weeds
Dried and fed.

Wonderful imagery and a clear picture of hope.

Shashidhar Sharma said...

Hi Andrews

Oh yes.. no one wants to live the life as lamb... but some times I wonder if its us or the ego that says so.. I liked your lines...
'No one wants to admit
To being a lamb
We want to be the lions
Of our own lives'
beautiful.

ॐ नमः शिवाय
Om Namah Shivaya
http://shadowdancingwithmind.blogspot.com/2011/02/whispers-night-along-sea.html
Twitter @VerseEveryDay

L.L. Barkat said...

"And there were no lambs."

the starkness of that was perfect

And for some reason it reminded me of a book I read about a guy who bought a farm in Granada Spain, and he tried to sell his lambs' wool but he didn't know the system there and so he braved all that distance and the cold only to turn back home with no deals. It's a good book; I think you might like it. (Okay, please do not ask me how my mind works, and how associations are made, and why in the world I thought of the sheep shearer beyond the obvious "lambs" reference. It's a mysterious and sometimes baffling place, my mind :)

Jenne' R. Andrews said...

Thanks each of you once again-- see you on Tues afternoon...isn't it grand. xxxj