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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, July 24, 2012

New Poem: Nocturne and Lamentation, for DVerse Poets Pub OLN and Beyond


Nocturne and Lamentation

Today a photo came of you
with a woman I’ve never met—
you were looking at her and your hair
was dark with the sheen of a raven’s wing.

Suddenly I was holding you in my arms again,
rocking you in the long desert night,
I a girl, you an infant, as if you had been left
by our mother on the doorstep of my heart.

I deflected her fire and have shrapnel in my flesh.
I became afraid to spread my hatchling-to-swan wings,
but you headed to the mountains, the white powder,
the lakes,  lust-crazed trout spanking the flume
then caught up in your net--

First the Big Thompson, where I could go
once a summer to ride the trails,
and then farther away, telling me I too
should leave this place with its languishing
ghosts and lakes-full of tears.

Tonight, half-tied to the stake still,
the emerald lawns of summer drinking
the 4 a.m.rain,
I say to myself that my job is done:
I raised a man-child when I was a girl,

and that brick by brick
I can wall off my heart now,
I don’t have to be an oven waiting
for the risen loaf of your love;

I get to close down, go out of business,
retire, let the memory of you, the need
for you fade--

all the leavetakings and grief
and rage and fallings through and death:

to enter the inner room—
the archway of the stone villa
in the sun-fired hills,
come home to myself
light kindling the cut-glass
olio di olivi cruets,

to pace on the balcony, listening to Tosca
in the moonlight, woman alone
by intention,

having cut you from me, severing
the old roots that kept nudging their way
through the dry adobe wishing-well
of all the self-forsaking years. 


xx

10 comments:

Maureen said...

Such tendered and tender feelings; indeed both nocturne and lamentation. That opening stanza might have sent us down one path but it turned, opening us to see another.

Some wonderful imagery: "hair / . . . dark with the sheen of a raven's wing"; "lust-crazed trout spanking the flume"; "the risen loaf of your love"; "the dry adobe wishing-well...."

"I get to close down. . . ." forces a stop, a taking in of how love hurts, how even the memory of it can keep nudging, kindling, cutting.

Brian Miller said...

oh , the longing in this..even as you wall off that heart is very palpable...the roots def still weedle into the bricks...smiles...

Tashtoo said...

Wow. You twisted this on me...and surprised me with the brilliance of the finish. I have digested a complete history of a soul...a "woman alone by intention" and this will linger long. Completely immersed with all senses, physical and spiritual, engaged. Fantastic!

Beachanny said...

This could as well be a song of mothers to sons. They always leave..and leave a hole in your heart that their new family, their children, their altered reality don't fully or sometimes in any way replace. We have to make our own happiness at last. Lovely, Jenne and thank you for the bd wishes.

Anonymous said...

Oh dear - very sad poem; and yet the cut-off voice - with Tosca and cruets of wine doesn't sound so bad - so perhaps some hope there! k.

Anonymous said...

This and the Notes to the Mater Familias burn with that intense fire getting to the core and perhaps even beyond as you employ deeper ways of seeing. On a personal note I generally have difficulty commenting on this type of subject as I often feel that commentary is invasive. I haven't resolved this issue at all so I tend to not comment but read and absorb. Your characterization and fearlessness is admirable and I find your work alive.

Maude Lynn said...

"to pace on the balcony, listening to Tosca
in the moonlight, woman alone
by intention"

That is incredibly powerful.

chazinator said...

This is so powerful Jenne. The longing for the past so strong, the consciousness of having to move on with your life, being who you are once again. Face-to-face with that fact calls up such harrowing images that I am pulled into your pain of leave-taking with one part of your life, that part which you gave life to and now see gone to be his own man. I don't know that there is consolation for these moments. They are what they are; yet, a life of possibility rises anew, I hope, in the realization that you helped a human being become human, mistakes and all, as there always are with parents. The beauty of your poem is its clear-sightedness, spoken in lovingly polished verses, burnished with deep keen yet also with a exultation of life's force and power.

Anonymous said...

This is beautiful and sad and empowering all at once for me. You are at such a graceful stage. Lovely poem.

hyperCRYPTICal said...

A truly beautiful and tender poem.

When my two little men left home, initially there was sadness, a longing for things past - but I knew I had raised two good men and felt peace and fulfilment in that.

Anna :o]