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, July 3, 2012

New Poem: Leaving Us, for DVerse Poets Pub Open Link Night and Beyond...


Every time I see the grey wildfire-razed
hillside stubble,  I remember our opening

of the box from the crematorium, the bone 
shards and fine powder,

how we held our father’s ashes in our hands,
our tears leaching from us,

dampening what he had become.
That we dug around the trunks of the spindly  

pinon pines he had planted as a windbreak 
to the north

so that contorted trees grew there that clung
to the red clay soil for their dear lives

while we came and went in the dream 
that was our youth.

In our unschooled hands, the homely leavings
of a good man, this ghost-dust

that could be re-taken from us in a heartbeat 
by the wind, born out of reach, 

to a mere thumbprint on the glittering air. 
We needed to keep him there,

we in our serapes  of tallow, sweating' 
beneath the June sun, 

raking our fingers through the dropped needles,
he chips  of shale and flecks of mica 

and sun-shot glass, working him into the topsoil 
around the roots of the trees

that so ached for a mineral boost, 
they drew him  him in.


copyright Jenne' R. Andrews 2012


Brian Miller said...

wow...you take the reality of the fires and that ash and make it def personal...stirring really the turning of your fathers ash into the soil....nice write jenne....

Daydreamertoo said...

Nothing in life, or death is ever wasted is it. Even our ashes feed the earth once again.
Poignant writing and, heartfelt too.

Anna Montgomery said...

Your lyricism works to great affect here entwining the meso/macrocosms with the realm of the personal.

Anonymous said...

A powerful poem.

Beachanny said...

Dust to dust, ashes to ashes. Poignant, deep, metaphoric and personal. What else could be asked of a poem. Very moving.

Maureen said...

The personal is so deep here and yet not so deep that we feel impelled to avert our eyes. The lyricism requires our looking, sensing, feeling, empathizing.

You know, Jenne, you've created with these poems about the Colorado fires a chapbook-sized collection that ought to be published. Imagine the poems paired with non-obvious images that carry your metaphors. Truly beautiful work you've created.

ayala said...

Poignant writing! You made it personal and moving!

Lorna Cahall said...

This is so moving and lovely. Wonderful images...Thanks for sharing the intense emotion.e

Anonymous said...

this is incredible...as always. So sad and real. Very real. I've nominated your blog for a Beautiful Blogger Award Here: