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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, April 3, 2012

Revision: Fugitive - Posted for DVerse OLN and Beyond...

Please feel free to read my well-received piece on Adrienne Rich at Loquaciously Yours...





Fugitive

I have been running ahead of a thundering storm of crows
for days.  Years.  Multitudes of owls with piercing
eyes and talons.  Blizzards of infuriated snow that ache

To be ash, sky that would like to go dark or swallow itself.
I sang and sang last night to Handel and Mozart and then
we assailed each other with our tongues. On the radio, manifold

Voices spoke of the take-out of the patriarch terrorist, how
the late day sun irradiated a gull as it soared from cliff to white
cap to prow.  What is a mortal wound, a hit to the brain by way

Of the eye. Or a blow to the heart quivering in its silver casing
like a Derringer in a cupboard. I fled over the washboard road,
the bridge poised to fall, past ancient trees, wary neighbor, dogs

Milling at her gate. In his run a golden horse looked out at the
newly green field.  We together populated the rutted hours
in common vigilance, as if an armed stranger were working her way

To us from farm to farm, the night blooming dusk. Now my jaw is
tarnished, my spoons misaligned. Have you ever believed yourself
to be a mistake. What would you pay for a reprieve?   This useless

Chattering of sparrows in the plum blossoms-- who will love us.   
does it matter.   Write to live.  Paint to burn down the wormwood
of day. A priest claimed I don’t believe I’m loved and then

My windshield was pitted by gravel and I slid from the white
dress of my flesh. Our fugitive bodies, washed, swaddled,
“eased” into the sea. Only then, the fields on fire with lavender.
.


--from the forthcoming collection  Snafu .  
Do visit DVerse Poets Pub.... many wonderful writers..

copyright Jenne' R. Andrews 2012

9 comments:

Brian Miller said...

dang...some wicked cool imagery and fascinating story telling....the to ash, early on and slipping from the white dress of your flesh....whew...i like jenne

Maureen said...

Your vivid imagery never disappoints: you employ beautifully that "thundering storm of crows", "multitudes of owls", "chattering of sparrows in the plum blossoms". And snow as "infuriated", that gull "irradiated", the fields afire with lavender also stick in the mind, as does the invocation to "[p]aint to burn down the wormwood / of day." As Brian says, "wicked cool"!

Kerry O'Connor said...

I feel like I am in the presence of one of today's great writers whenever I visit your blog, Jenne and today is no exception. Far and way one of the finest pieces of poetry I've been fortunate enough to read.

ayala said...

Lovely write with cool imagery !

Semaphore said...

This is a piece full of eloquence and illumination. Reading the first three verses, I had to do a double take - especially with the choice of images to illustrate the poem. As always, your images are brilliant, and your metaphors strong... but at times so demanding of the reader! Then I saw that I didn't have to take the pursuers (and the pursuit) as literal "things", that the pursuit itself was the central metaphor... and everything fell into place. Bravo!

Zoe Francesca said...

achingly good, filled with imagery that mingles so beautifully.

Jenne' R. Andrews said...

Thank you, dear fellow poets and friends. I enjoy the Eucharist of our Tuesdays and all the other times. We are scattered all over the earth and yet come together with a common goal-- amazing. xxxj

Lady Nyo said...

Imagery powerful and galloping away.

Overfill the senses and brain and I don't know where to land...but this 'ride' is a rich stew and a challenge to take in.

Exciting work here, Jenne.

Lady Nyo

Beachanny said...

Yes at the end the truth of our oneness in nature burns brightly, our bodies yearning to give it up, our minds, our desires clinging to stripped branches and we deny our curses, and try to find our cures. Your poem brought that and more into brilliant relief.
Thank you for your generous and kind comment on my poem Passion. My faith remains resilient in a deity, my faith in this world's institutions regarding that faith is irreparably damaged. The nuns condemned me to hell. Perhaps I'll end up there; but if love can save me, perhaps there is hope yet. Thanks Jenne.