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, June 8, 2011

New Poem, On Meaning/Being....

Anna Netrebko and Rolando Villazon, from Boheme

Last Notes on a Day of Babble

Over and over when I mean to enter the field
I fly into the window.
And behind the window there they are,
The madly gyrating flowers of the field,
The babbling petals the swiveling dusky heads.

They have come to ask the meaning of the lyric
They want discourse, to step outside
The eerie business of being flowers.

No one can tear the petals off and not know
He is destroying a flower, leaving her asunder.
No one can return from ash as a full blown rose.

Enter the sky’s river as a swan, pierce the nucleus
Of the rain cloud, breaking forth its water--
Eat the red strawberries, one bite from each

To make known your mouth was here, asking
Questions amid the rallying of birds
On every hand—little flag-wearing
Nationalists in humid fervor--

Why not step through to the river?
The body loves water; it is a returning,
Where we float and sing, lilies
in a private language, unto ourselves.



Mama Zen said...

Beautifully written.

Maureen said...

I like the dual meanings of "Notes" and, via its sound, "refracting pane". Strong opening with the image of collision with glass, the contrast of seeing through what should be clear but not really seeing; something of this also gets picked up in the images of "sky's river" and water, clarity and purification. The "babbling petals" bring to mind gossips, or a kind of Greek chorus, nicely relating to the insistence conveyed by the verbs become, fill, enter, enter, eat in the 4th stanza, which flows into "one bite from each / Your signature" and then opens out in "the day grew". "Of birds from every hand - little flags of love and hunger" is lovely. The "throw in the towel" seems a little jarring given the poem's overall lyricism. (Perhaps "Why not step through / give your body to water"?) I also like "ourselves spilling / beyond the need...." That final "and wordless" after all the babbling, swiveling, tearing, destroying and other active noisy words is nice, also because it relates back to last notes.

jen revved said...

Thank you thank you, Maureen-- I agree with you and appreciate your comprehension so much of what I was trying to do here. I was quite tired when I put this up, so made a few mistakes. Thank you too to Mama Zen. xj

janice said...

dear jenne,

realizing you may never find this comment i apologize for being late, yet i am still grateful to have found your poem as it is stunning and beautifully expressed...it stirs ones emotions, it ponders, it seeks resolve, it sees a world in trouble and weeps for the flowers knowing "no one can tear the petals off and not know he is destroying a flower leaving her asunder, no one can return from ash as a full blown rose"...i've read this many times and with each contemplation i see the levels of meaning your words take on and i feel a great sense of loss...

water is healing... as you say to return to our true element while "the restless mouth was here" asking questions amid the rallying of birds on every hand- little flag- wearing nationalists in their humid fervor"...perhaps in all the babbling our mouths are searching for a better way, and you've been lead to river "gorgeously defeated" and alas, "wordless"...

i sure wish that with all the babbling i do, that it led me to creating a poem such as yours...one in which the more i read it, the more i feel your desperation to see the flowers unharmed...to see our lives, our hearts, most importantly our love prevail...

a beautiful, profound and brilliantly expressed poem...


jen revved said...

What a fabulous comment, Janice-- I tried to find your blog, but? Thank you so very much! xxxj