Jamie Dedes




January Is On The Wane

January is on the wane leaving behind early dark
and champagne hopes for the genus Rosa.
Garden roses want pruning now, solicitous cultivation.
Layer shorter under taller, drape on trellises 
and over pergolas, the promise of color and scent,
climbers retelling their stories in a ballet up stone walls,
an heirloom lace of tea roses, a voluptuous panorama
rhymed with shrubs and rock roses in poetic repetition.
Feminine pulchritude: their majesties in royal reds
or sometimes subdued in pink or purple gentility,
a cadmium-yellow civil sensibility, their haute couture.
Is it the thorny rose we love or the way it mirrors us
in our own beauty and barbarism, our flow into decrepitude?
They remind of our mortality with blooms, ebbs, and bows
to destiny. A noble life, by fate transformed in season.
Divinely fulsome, that genus Rosa, sun-lighted, reflexed.
And January? January is ever on the wane.




Wabi Sabi

if only i knew
what the artist knows
about the great perfection
in imperfection
i would sip grace slowly
at the ragged edges of the creek
kiss the pitted
face of the moon
befriend the sea
though it can be a danger
embrace the thunder of a waterfall
as if its strains were a symphony
prostrate myself atop the rank dregs on the forest floor,
worshiping them as compost for fertile seeds
and the breeding ground for a million small lives


if i knew what the artist knows,
then i wouldn’t be afraid to die,
to leave everyone
i would be sure that some part of me
would remain present
and that one day you would join me
as the wind howling on its journey
or the bright moment of a flowering desert
if i knew what the artist knows,
i would respond soul and body
to the echo of the Ineffable in rough earthy things
i would not fear decay or work left undone
i would travel like the river through its rugged, irregular channels
comfortable with this life; imperfect, impermanent, and incomplete

inspired by Leonard Koren, Wabi Sabi for Artists, Designers, Poets & Philosophers





Old Woman, Sea                                                                    
she’s as playful as spray
and as prayerful spume
in peace
and in turmoil
drumming the shore
persistent in her
giving and taking
free of any filters
as wild and dangerous
as any old woman
who says what she thinks






My Ears Are Deaf,
My Eyes Hear A Song

mountains rise round, Mother’s ever pregnant belly
and the aspens dance with paper-barked madrone
screeching their yellows and reds, brindle and feral
like the snaked hairs of Medusa, they are a warning
looming over me as I lay miles away on a mesa,
the bones of my ancestors, the heart of my child,
the pelts of the brown minks my father sewed,
the vultures circle, mesmerized by my demise
I feed on the pinion and ride mountain lions
down slopes, into valleys, a wanderer, lost and lost
looking eastward, seeking John Chapman
he has something to say, or maybe it’s westward
John Muir, my ears are deaf, my eyes hear a song
emerging from brown bear, a surfeit of salmon,
burning sage, clearing America, the wild beasts
are defanged and declawed and I am hawk-eyed






The Republic Of Innocence 
                                                          J.
no mendacity in the natural world, just an
untamed grace in the meditative industry of ants,
in the peaceable company of small creatures
going about the business of food finding
and mating and homemaking in the loam of
this province, the republic of innocence
here is the satisfying beauty of sunrise, of
jacaranda as she paints joy on a blue dawn;
robin with russet-hued breast hunts for worms,
her instinctive motherhood proud of babies in
the spar and scrap of nest life; it is in this,
the guileless cosmos, that gentle breezes
dance with us on muddy travels down
rocky paths through meadow and brush;
as the flaxen sun shifts from rise to fall,
we pulse with love and fear, soon
we know, clouds will gray with the dark
the golden moon will show craggy depths
sooty with doubt and danger, humanity
projecting its own shadows; still, a certain
trust in nature’s homilies, content in this
province where we’re left to be ourselves, left
to write our wildness on the mirror of time


Jamie Dedes

Jamie Dedes: She is a writer, poet, and former columnist. She runs The Poet by Day jamiededes.com, an information hub for poets and writers and she is the Managing Editor of The BeZine, published by The Bardo Group/Beguines, a virtual arts collective she founded. Her work is featured in a variety of outlets including Levure litterautre, Ramingo's Porch, Vita Brevis Literature, Compass Rose, Connotation Press, The Bar NoneGroup, Salamander Cove, Second Light, I Am Not A Silent Poet,Meta /Phor(e) /Play, and California Woman.