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, May 8, 2012

New Poem, Volley, Revised, for DVerse Open Link Night

To participate in the Dverse Poets Pub Tuesday meme, click here.


Van Gogh wakes in the grave, leaning into a green
cemetery silence, listening with the tuning fork

filaments of his residual ear. Insomniac ghost, he sees
everyone running, whispering  “Je ne sais quoi!”

into the dark.  He billows off, the hem of his shroud
trailing in the bend of the voluble Seine, looking up

to see a luminous ball on the tip of the Eiffel Tower:
great sentinel moon rebuking all of Paris. Now Sartre

and Toulouse-Lautrec gather at the foot; it takes all three
of them, Van Gogh calling the plays, their white wrists

extended, to spike the ball loose; in unguarded awe
they watch it make its way east through molten skies.


In St. Petersburg, something tugs at a Dostoyevsky long
entombed within piling snow and dreams of forbidden love.

He finds himself in his dark carriage, driver lashing
a lathered team through the frigid and dormant city

where, like the face of a vagrant revolutionary, the great
moon floats above the Winter Palace. He summons

the Brothers Karamazov from their peripheral graves; once
more, a determined volley, and opalescent and immense,

broken from its orbit, the moon travels on west, through one
time zone then another, over alpine ridges to Verona.


On the redolent piazza, dreaming in his mantle of forlorn
pigeons, the Carrera Dante notices an ascendant

luna errante over the square. All Veronese lamplight
is abruptly quenched in deference. Sitting at a sidewalk

bistro table after hours, one expat had been saying
to another, “… but St. Thomas touched the stranger’s

wounds-- explain that away,” and the other person
could not, except to say  “We see what we yearn to see—

look:  Dante himself comes unto us now, broken from
stone, holding a wayfaring moon by a filigreed strand.”

copyright Jenne' R. Andrews 2012


aprille said...

Amazing slant on things, such an original concept, having them all rise all over Europe under th same moonshine.
I will come back to reread.

Brian Miller said...

ha...this is fanciful in all the dead playign a bit of volley ball with the moon...very interesting final stanza though in dante turning it more ballon...and the questions of the Christ...interesting...a very enjoyable piece jenne...

poemblaze said...

Would love to hear any of these masters. Thanks for bringing them to us via the moon.

Anonymous said...

An inspiring lunar trip through time, art and faith. Painted with a brush specially made with those filigreed strands just for you. Beautiful.

chris said...

A complex read with a lot going on. Great ending.

ayala said...

An inspiring and interesting write !
I enjoyed it :)

Kerry O'Connor said...

Hands down, I think you are the best poet on the blogs - and I fervently hope that this is not your only forum.

Mystic_Mom said...

That is such an interesting idea, to have them all come back! Well done!

Al_One said...

That moon was tugging at my brain, that's for sure.