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 .

Monday, September 5, 2011

Poem for Magpie Tales and DVerse Poets Pub


Gonna buy you a Chevrolet, buy you
A Chevrolet
‘cause I can’t get enough of your love
Babe, can’t get enough of your love.

-- Donovan Leitch

For a time I drove 
The old three-on-the-post
Blue Chevy 6 cylinder pick-up
Ending up on the roadside
Unjamming oil-caked gears
With the screwdriver we kept
In the dash.

Another time I left it there, 
Called the tow yard
And changed my mind;

Then some appraiser came
To look over the place before
We decided not to sell, said it was
An eye sore we should haul off

To the rust-drenched garden
Of crushed and fire-gutted
wreckage up at the corner
Where the ospreys nest 
On the telephone pole,
But we couldn't do it then either.

That heap of scrap
Is the last thing we have
Speaking to someone’s steadiness
Battered Coleman lantern dimming out
While he walked the fence

How he pulled an invisible
Cart behind him in every
Season, portaging Mother’s

Sapphire tears, a gunny sack
Of bruised and rotting apples
One could say were the harsh
Words among us.

Today, Labor Day
and sun.  I’ve made three pumpkin pies
For the freezer; you’ve been
Choppng and stacking deadfall. Late,
You come to the door, cock an eyebrow.
We go down together

To the junk pile along the creek,
Where he tinkers on unseen
His head under the hood
To kneel again in frosty grass, 
Confess our love.

As I've greatly revised this poem from its first appearance yesterday, re-posting.  Thanks to Tess Kincaid of Magpie Tales for the photo and here is also my offering for DVerse Poets Pub Open Link Night.  I highly recommend both memes to assist you in your writing practice.  xj 


copyright Jenne' Andrews


Helen said...

Whatever you do is great! Love the title 'Clunker' ... I've driven a few of those! Happy baking ....

Mystic_Mom said...

I like them both, but I think this one a bit more. Great images and wonderful feel Jenne! You rock!

Kay said...

i just found you....plucked from a list of names on magpies tales, just to say i loved you poem...it stirred something in me...it is a great talent to do that ..thank you.x

Jo Bryant said...

I think the changes are good - though I did - well do like the original as well

Anonymous said...

Didn't see the original, but sure do like this one. All these old truck poems ring a nostalgic bell with me. I learned to drive in a blue--or was it green--'51 Chevy; starter button on the floor.
Here's my offering for this prompt: http://charleslmashburn.wordpress.com/2011/09/09/he-was-a-ford-man-2/