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 .

Tuesday, March 15, 2011

Two Dissimilar Poems...

First a revision of my attempt to respond to the incomprehensible.  Second, a bit of a riposte.

Death Comes to Minami Sanriku*

There is no carretera de muerte
In these mountains where a waterfall
Sang to the people, where fine-boned
Brides to be dreamed of jade.

Today  weary dark-haired angels
 masked for the stench
Unload blue tarps 

Carefully swaddling the bodies
Retrieved from the mountain
Where the sea roared inland
With her angry mouth.

So it is that in the ways
Of the old empire, mass sacrifice,
Mass graves--
Then the keening, everywhere
Bowed heads, a candlemaker

Spent with despair.
How to assuage a Japanese candlemaker
Becomes the world’s new problem.
There are no words for it

And those who murmur This too
Shall Pass do not comprehend
The ways of the sea
Or the shuddering earth.

Our axis shifts at this betrayal
As it should. 
We go down
On our knees in supplication
As is meant to be.  Kestrels

Flap the air, bulleting down
To take some fleck
of horror away. 
Someone riding a rooftop

From the reloading sea calls out:
For a moment
We are in praise of
The hardy rooftops of the world.

*10,000—90% of town-- missing March 14, 2011

Jenne' R. Andrews
copyright 2011

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