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, January 10, 2012

New Rilke Variation Posted for DVerse Open Link Night

La Nuit en Rose
I want to unfold.
Let no place in me hold itself closed,
for when I am closed, I am false.
I want to stay clear in your sight.
Rilke, The Book of Hours I, 13
But it isn’t safe for the rose of
the feminine soul to remain
full and open all the hours:
it depletes her.
She folds into herself

Like a cantor’s echo
like the language of lovers
in the courtyard,
faded to a sotto voce urgency.

We pull in as a matter
of reverence for our own
daily sojourn up green hills

To view the great villas built
into the coastal mountains,
remarking at the beauty of their
sentinels of cypress

Back to the dusty roads.
The night long we rock ourselves
like infants, on violet
balconies of solitude

And in the dawn
our stems refreshed and
supple, our pulpy mouths
opening petal on petal

Sing forth baroque arias
Of deepest hues of red,
dazzling encores to
the daybreak world.

Vol. ii of rilke poems

Jenne' R. Andrews
Copyright to author 2012


Lorna Cahall said...

Love this study. Amazing voyage.

Anonymous said...

Wonderful roll of words down the page. Great images. Thanks for sharing this!.

flaubert said...

Quite beautiful, Jenne.


Pat Hatt said...

some wonderful imagery in your verse, baclonies of solitude really stuck out for me, nice!

Brian Miller said...

this is lovely jenne...and i would say it is not just the female that needs to fold in on itself occassionally to refresh itself...i think we all can...

Anonymous said...

Hi Jenne! Well, it's certainly what we should do. Others of us are up all night on the computer!

No, but as always, there is much beautiful here. I particularly like the comparison to the sotto voce urgency (so beautiful sounding) of courtyard lovers, and the pulpy mouths of course, petal on petal. Cypress sentinals too.

Reading it feels like a long cool drink on one of those dusty roads.

You are probably right re my pantoum--it is a very constricting form. I think that I sometimes doubt my insights so the constrictions of the form can be a bit of a relief--why worry about profundity if you've got the equation right. At any rate, I will think of free verse as I am getting more confidence about this of late. K.

Marbles in My Pocket said...

I hardly feel worthy to comment on this. I know little of poetry, and can only say that this one is a wonderful read. So perfectly formed, and yet so profoundly simple in its message.


jen revved said...

Thanks to each fellow poet-- will make rounds, running late to the Pub...try to make it by last call. xj