My Pickle

My pickle of bad, darling

My lips of hunger, starving

Lips spicy and tart

Our fingers of beauty, smart

And vinegar, wince

You touch me, convince

My pickle of bad

We go down glad

Slurp, lick

Delicious stick

Don’t stop

Atop

My pickle of bad

Breathe In Breathe Out

Breathe in racism’s poisonous hate

Breathe out sweet scent of redwoods in summer

Breathe in my best friend gone four years

Breathe out bike rides by the water

Breathe in I never learned how to draw his face

Breathe out loving kisses

Breathe in dark night of the imagination

Breathe out flight of the raven on warm air

Breathe in waiting for the doctor to call his name

Breathe out curtain rises

©2020 Chris Orr

Two Haiku for the Lost Coast Writers Retreat at the Mattole River

1.

Mountain mist departs

Blue becomes bigger than cloud

Until all is sun

 

2.

Look toward the river

More greens than there are words,

My eyes understand

©2020 Chris Orr