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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.

Tuesday, September 20, 2011

New Poem: Dark Horses, Dark Angels, DVerse Open Link Night

 Fresh as flounder, this poem; thanks for stopping by and do join in Open Link Night at the DVerse Poets Pub.  Please also join us for Friday's Open Link Poetry Fest

If you have a few extra minutes, feel free to scroll down to read Lily Codington, Waking -- wonderful feedback.

 


 The one and only Mata-Harri




Dark Horses, Dark Angels

I come from a family of dark horses:
We put on the last burst of speed
Left in us at the end

Pass the favorite and cross
The finishing line, expiring
On the track.

I mean to say that every so-called
Addict or loser
Races against time to become
Live up to, transcend--

This one as well, as in today
Blazing and beautiful autumn
Wraps her arms around me while I

Wait out the hours for the soporific
That brings a momentary suffusion
Of gladness and something

Like peace of mind, a waking dream
So that I can type on, rolling my own poems
On my tongue like peppermints
Biting into them like chocolate-covered
Cherries

All the while listening to Anna Netrebko
Sing Rimsky Korsakov.
 
I want to be brave—the dark horses
Become dark angels were brave at the very end
Mother ran from the nursing home
Walked to the beauty shop
Smiled and died in the chair.

We wept without tears, bestowed upon her
The Mata Harri award and then I thought
She came back to life in me
So that I mistook the peony kimono
Of my own beauty
For a diagnosis.

ii

Some of us took a knitting needle
In the eye in the womb
And went on to sing Madama Butterfly
In Munich

Some of us checked out on Scotch
For all of WWII
And fell and freefell into dishabille
Into the cooling silences of ash.

Some of us are high and low
High and sweet and high
And come down with our wings
Burning.

We are your best contraband
Your geniuses, your raconteurs
Your exhibitionist's bangles
Of filigree and abalone:

Love us from a distance
To spare yourselves
Counsel us to hover farther

From the flame
To open the gate
where the dark horse waits
coursing the frost
for sign of her daybreak rider.



copyright Jenne' R. Andrews  2011 all rights reserved. 

8 comments:

Pat Hatt said...

Great piece, really vivid imagery through as you spin a storied tale, nice!

Maureen said...

The whole of that first section is a rush of strong imagery, its last stanza especially evocative in its implications. I could see the poem ending there. However, I like a lot the the opening of II; the lack of punctuation in that first line allows the line to be read at least three different ways, before the poem moves on to the gentle "I whisper to myself". Just those first two lines could stand for the entire section, leaving some ambiguity that would strengthen the impression of the poem overall. In III, you're back with very strong visual imagery that maintains power through the end of the third stanza. As always, the informed reader comes away marveling at how you work can work in a reference to Anna Netrebko with a mention of Mata Hari.

Beachanny said...

Dark horses, dark angels indeed. They push you out into the sunshine where the world is lighting its leaves to flame, to inflame your mind and your imagination. Your sadness burns like a transformative flame that lights the soul and provides comfort and shows the way - through dark woods and along rocky cliffs. We all travel those dark paths and pray for sunshine or candles at the very least.
Always well written! G.

Ann Grenier said...

Another amazing poem Jenne. I feel that I need a book of your poems to read again and again to better appreciate/understand/digest some of your lines.

Kerry O'Connor said...

Wow! This is such an amazingly powerful piece of writing about the bohemian spirit. I think the image that will remain with me for a long time is that of the old woman who defiantly dies in the chair at the beauty salon, but there is so much more to this piece than an individual story.

Mark Kerstetter said...

"Some of us took a knitting needle
In the eye in the womb"

Those lines stood out for me. The world is not kind to those who have taken a serious blow in the beginning of life. Mention it and they're likely to tell you you're making excuses for failure, you need to roll w/the punches, pick yourself up by the bootstraps, make your own future, etc. Sometimes, we bide our time in silence and darkness, dreaming of roaring through in the end.

Anonymous said...

Jenne, your cllections of words are absolutely beautiful and I think your imagination must be beyond compare! What a beautiful image I just had of you sitting in a soft light, "rolling" this poem while listening to Anna Netrebko. I don't know how to describe that, I mean it's not romantic but it's right up there on that highest level.. You mentionned gladness before describing your mother's death and that made me happy in a way, that you are at peace. And the second part of your poem is absolute art. World class Jenne... just wonderful....

Anonymous said...

Jenne..I really enjoyed the interplay between the two sections.. the second providing a sharp and tangy counterpoint to the first. Beautiful word combos jump up regularly and demand attention. The reference to poems as peppermints on your tongue..rolling..tasting...and the bite into choc-coated cherries..delish..

My fave section though are the first two stanzas of the second section which were, for me, spot-lit.