On-line Floricanto features Angel Guerrero

La Bloga-Tuesday proudly shares poetry from a recently-debuted poet, Angel Guerrero. Guerrero’s work has taken an upward trajectory ever since the poet made her initial public reading at the Eagle Rock branch of the Los Angeles Public Library in  May 2024. 

Since the reading, Angel Guerrero’s been published in Don Campbell’s So Cal Steps and the upcoming on-line Altadena Poetry Review. Guerrero has shared her work at Casa Reyna's Poetry Garden in a backyard floricanto. This is Angel's first On-line Floricanto appearance.

Guerrero enjoys a diverse artistic life. She’s a noted collector of Chicana Chicano artists, she studied sculpture and painting with Magu, Angel Guerrero was assistant to Pola López for the restoration of the Daniel Cervantes indigenous faces mural at the foot of Los Angeles’ endangered Southwest Museum.

Editor's Note: La Bloga's On-line Floricanto series started in 2010 in collaboration with Francisco X. Alarcón qepd, in anticipation of that year's three-day Festival de Flor y Canto: Yesterday • Today • Tomorrow, organized by Michael Sedano. Francisco and Michael reasoned that that Fall's reunion of poets from the first Flor y Canto in 1973 shouldn't be limited by geography, hence we took the opportunity to share established and emerging work, particularly work submitted to the Face group, Poets Responding to SB1070, via La Bloga-Tuesday.

Angel Guerrero, left, Pola López, right, restoring a heritage mural in northeast Los Angeles 

On-Line Floricanto Featuring Angel Guerrero

KEEP CLIMBING
by Angel Guerrero

I’ve been climbing these stairs, 
For what seems like forever. 
I’ve climbed Seventy-One, 
Each one has my name engraved on it. 
This is my path, and it is well-worn. 
I step carefully nowadays, 
gone are the days of 
Skipping and jumping 
and daring myself to fly, 
Slipping and falling to the bottom, 
only to start again. 
That energy has faded, 
and caution has taken its place. 
I dare not look down 
a dense fog threatens to overtake me. 
So, I look upward 
and refuse to lament the past.
I climb slowly, 
I am unsteady, 
but some days I get excited 
to see what awaits on the other side. 
But every step has its own lessons and wonder, 
One day soon I’ll reach my destination 
So, for now, 
I will continue climbing.

THINGS LEFT BEHIND
by Angel Guerrero

I run around my bedroom frightened by the familiar voice on my cell phone, 
The voice sends out warnings of 
Amber Alerts, Flashfloods, and Earthquakes. 
And now that voice insists, 
we must leave, leave our home, 
Our art, sculptures, books, our love letters,
Small and large items, mean something only to me. 
Everything is precious,
 our photographs, the kind you can hold in your hand, 
The images of life together, our youth, 
And family members we will never kiss or hold again, 
We must get out now, “it’s only stuff.” 
So instead, we gather necessary items, 
our survival kit is small, 
And our time is short. 
I search out my husband's eyes, 
His still-strong arms envelop my quivering body and still my fears. 
As we turn to leave, he whispers in my ear 
“It’s only stuff.” 
I realize that the things we leave behind are no longer 
more important 
Than our fingers holding on tightly to each other. 
He leads me down the staircase 
just in time to hear 
That the warning was not meant for us, 
But for another community of people.
We stand frozen. 
Our hearts are pained for them, in shock, for them. 
For the many who will now have to deal 
with this horrific loss 
we pray that your families survived 
And that it is only their things that were left behind.

*to be published in 2025 Altadena Poetry Review

CHARRED STAIRS
by Angel Guerrero

 I went to search for you, 
but could not find you. 
Everything was gone, 
Charred rubble, 
which was once precious memories, 
Was all that was left. 
Gone was the beauty that had once existed, 
All was scorched beyond recognition. 
So, on and on I walked, 
So sure, I would find the path that led to you. 
Finally, I looked up and there was your street. 
I followed the now-broken road 
Once edged by everything that was lush and green. 
I walked until I saw the stairway that led to your home,
 It was stark and blackened by the ravenous flames. 
My heart was filled with dread, 
but I climbed on. 
Once at the top, I fell to my knees in tears, 
As if it had been my home, 
As if it had been, my loss, my pain. 
Finally, I turned and slowly walked down those stairs, 
Which no longer led, 
to anyone or anything, 
I once knew. 

*first published in So Cal Steps ed. Don Campbell, 2025.