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 .

Monday, September 3, 2012

New Poem: Angels, Half-Fallen, for The Mag and Beyond...

Summer Night 1913, Albert Bloch

Angels, Half-Fallen.

After the Fall the angels dyed themselves dusk-blue
and walked among apples smoking from the heat
of the wrath above them.

Everything was in the Purgatory strata: gilded trees
upside down in mid-air, and something
had clipped their wings.
They saw each others' red mouths in 
the gloaming and when they tried to touch,
it seemed the Other receded into night.

They called out to the Lord of All and no celestial
reassurance caroled back across the spangled 
wilderness; below them they could see Lucifer 
writhing in a crucible of fire.

They wandered out to time's lunar rim,
reorienting themselves by the brazen stars.
One fell to translating L’Inferno into seraphic
litanies, a Rubayat.

What to do with the minions He had accidentally
hung out to dry in the middle of the cosmic
rebuke of universe and world?

God was unsure: he thought to send them back
to Earth to serve as Gabriel had, fluttering his long
wings over the Virgin, speaking sweet prophecy
into her long dark hair—

or as philosophers to greet those walking out
on Golden Gate bridge with their minds made up,
to seize and hold them back at the last.

In any case, the hours of his deliberation
were eons to the ones adrift in Limbo--
desolation-blue, meandering to the edge.

Many thanks to Tess Kincaid of The Mag for this meme... 

copyright Jenne' R. Andrews 2012 


Anonymous said...

This is just beautiful - one of my favorites of yours. The end - the options for the angels - Gabriel whispering into the Virgin's hair and the Golden Gate Bridge Guardians - are wonderfully evocative and "right" and the eons of waiting -

The wrath - the loneliness -the red mouths - and of course the blue desolation beautifully caught. k.

Wayne Pitchko said...

this is truly a wonderful read...very well done and thanks for sharing your words Jen

Wayne Pitchko said...

nicely done...thanks for sharing

Wayne Pitchko said...

i must be a robot...cant seem to make comment....anyways...very nice and thanks for sharing

robkistner said...

This is the first time Jenné, I've had the 'Great Fall' offered quite so poetically -- it's beautiful, even to this agnostic's ears...

...and may I present Ghosts...

Tess Kincaid said...

The ones he accidentally hung out to dry! Indeed. Wonderful write, Jen.

Tigerbrite said...

Love this :)