LeeAnn Pickrell: California Poets Part 8, Three Poems
January 8th, 2025
California Poets: Part VIII
LeeAnn Pickrell
Three Poems
This is not
This is not a poem about
the solar eclipse I missed
how smog shrouds the city below while here
where we walk the grass brushes my calves
how we left the din of the restaurant
for the stillness of downtown streets at night
how in the bay of this city
there is an island where poems
so many poems
are etched in walls of stone
or at the play The Far Country
how I wish I cried as easily as my friend does
How I wonder if I’ve let scar tissue fill the cracks
that could have opened my heart
like the cherry tree this spring
late April and still struggling to bloom
Note: The Far Country is a play about the arduous journey undertaken by Chinese immigrants following the Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882. Upon arrival they were interred at Angel Island, often for extended periods of time.
Potluck
During a potluck in a Berkeley backyard,
we each drew a card from a deck of power animals.
Mine was the hawk: focus, finding priorities.
We went in a circle, taking turns, passing along wishes,
in the voice of our power animal.
I wondered, what would they do if I squawked?
The host, an elephant, spoke of building an inclusive
community where everyone is welcome.
Another woman, a dolphin, said sometimes I have to be quiet
even when I know I’m right.
But I love to be right and tell you about it.
Only in Berkeley on a Friday night. But I did, for a moment,
set aside the cynicism I carry through the world.
And I flew high above the backyard table,
above the city between bay and hills,
and all I could see was the yellow light of candles flickering,
surrounded by the shadows of people everywhere.
Fly high, I said, in order to see.
Poetry Reading
In my memory of that gray evening
I’m alone, sounds smothered by
the fog descending over
downtown’s skyscrapers.
I climb the steep streets
in a jean jacket
that offers no warmth.
I have never felt so cold.
I am twenty-seven,
have just moved from Texas
for a new life in California.
And there I am in San Francisco,
climbing toward a church
where poets read their poetry
where there are so many people
crowded inside I stand pressed
with my back against the wall,
amazed I have found a place
where poems are prayers.
Author Bio:
LeeAnn Pickrell is a poet, editor, and managing editor of Jung Journal: Culture & Psyche. Her work has appeared in a variety of online and print journals, including One Art, MacQueen’s Quinterly, Loud Coffee Press, Atlanta Review, West Marin Review, Eclectica, where she was a Spotlight Poet, and the anthologies Coffee Poems and A Gathering of Finches. Her chapbook Punctuated was published in 2024 by Bottlecap Press, and her books Gathering the Pieces of Days and Tsunami are forthcoming from Unsolicited Press. She lives in Richmond, California, with her partner and two fabulous cats, and has an MFA from Mills College.
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