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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.

Friday, March 25, 2011

Poem for Saturday....

Break of Day

Break of day…but not yet.  
I pull myself ashore 
From sleep’s loquacious sea.
My legs are on fire 

From the heat of the comforter.
I toss it off, and pull it 
Back over my gravid body 
Like a cloud of dreams.

I need this wayward cloud, to hide 
My bleak understandings,
My dislike of doctors and priests 
From myself.

Now it is true daybreak 
And there on the screen
The reactor has leaked, radioactive water
Flows out from the “core” 

To all of Japan. 
I sit up, gathering up 
My arthritic exhaustion
The bulge in my hip 

Where I stand crooked 
For hours
The bed leg that will never 
Straighten, nor bend entirely

Until and unless I let someone
Put their hands on me 
And fire up a circular saw.
Such small problems, in the small 

Musty square of my bedroom.  
The death of trust and/or faith
In my own life, a minute thing.
We strafe Libya but Khadafy’s tanks

Take out the disorganized resistance. 
Men come in from the golf course 
To weigh in
About this unannounced war 

As if anyone’s polemic
Matters now, bombs bursting in air.
We find ourselves  once more
Breaching the rules of engagement

As if we as a people
Have amnesia.
Imagine a frontier on one side freedom
On the other, to be massacred

Trying to get to freedom
And imagine yourself on the boundary
With elation slipping through your fingers
Like water.

ii

We make a sieve for blood
Out of someone else’s country.
And there is keening in the mosques--
But, we murmur, turning away

Spring is verging in the oaks
On Elizabeth Street:  o miracle--
The tiny fists of the branch-tips 
Begin their unfurling. 

Last night in a raucous jubilation
Two foxes coupled 
In the middle of the street
I was the only one 

To stump out to hush them
My neighbors waiting indoors 
To see if anyone
Would come to plead our case, 

To say please go on, back 
To your wild places.
It was the sound of screaming 
A sound

That raised my dog’s hackles
So that she nosed 
For danger in the dark--
A sound I hear again 

Looking at the Libyan mortars
Firing up at the heavens.


x
copyright Jenne' R. Andrews 2011
All rights reserved. 
jenneandrews2010@gmail.com 

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2 comments:

Brendan said...

Fine weave of local and global, the personal ills and cultural malaise. No comforter is sufficient to quell the world, but these words cover much. I loved the detail of the coupling of foxes -- how strange, how ripe, how prescient of the age. Awful and awesome in the same hurl of words. - Brendan

March 27, 2011 at 4:57 AM
Hyde Park Poetry Palace said...

amazing...

March 30, 2011 at 6:57 PM

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