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 .

Wednesday, May 25, 2011

New Poem for One Shot and Beyond....

Please enjoy my review of Charles Ades Fishman's new collection of poetry "In the Language of Women", Casa De Snapdragon Press 2011-- up at Loquaciously Yours.

Meanwhile new poem for One Stop and Wednesday....xj


An open-mouthed lily with a clapper tongue, pigment
petals like smoldering wings unnaturally folded back.  Enter
the jester’s hat of the spent lily.  Into the room where
the beautiful and the inanimate are one and the same.

Croce delizio—Alfredo and his futile ardor.  Come unto me
all ye who travail;  Bicyclists on the eyelid of the river.  Fallow
and crow-covered fields, the skein of the lilac, first
the leaves then the miniscule bells, the pollen. The ardor

Of the lily and the tongues of delirium: Anima mei… animate 
me.  Revive me. Now that everyone is speaking in tongues
let go.  The bell-housing, fractured in the wind.  Lakme,
a voice from on high.  Love cannot pollinate despair, only

Sing of it while falling.  Ophelia, thinned like a silkworm’s
mucous and bound  to the fence with morning glory
ropings and tiny canticles.  Rain veils, and a pale girl
Running toward sombero mountains.Watch out  

For falling swans in a largo of clouds, the winged lightning
of a tenor singing  quel amore che palpito.. If you plant
the hybrid rose there in your fever you will bury yourself
in the heavy wet earth.


Reflections said...

Just love the last stanza from falling swans to burying oneself in the heavy wet earth. Wonderful imagery throughout.

Ann Grenier said...

"An open mouthed lily with a clapper tongue" is at once a beautiful and an ugly image to me as it brings forth the memory of a loved one in a state of delirium speaking confused snippets of dreamlike situations. A rich poem.

Cheryl and Janet Snell said...

Deep, rich, and ultimately devastating, this bears repeated readings. How did you think of sombrero mountains, a largo of clouds? Very fresh.


Steve Isaak said...

Again, intensely realized, literate work - excellent.

Brendan said...

A delightful delirium, opened wide, tossing on the wind. What songs utter through the widened mouths of maenad lilies. -Brendan

jen revved said...

High praise from each of you-- makes my morning! Thank you! xxxj

James Rainsford said...

"Love cannot pollinate despair, only
Sing of it while falling."

Such lines become part of my poetic memory. Another intelligent and intriguing poem. Jen, your work always challenges, but also, always rewards. Thank you. James.