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the night heron

            perched on a post

his beak points to his prey



bobbing and weaving up the stairs

the wasp

finds the door



astronaut floating

in space, inside the capsule

bumps her head




a surfer shoots the curl




way high up on a black cliff face

                         this steep

                    a mountain goat



I thought I had a chance with her

        until I saw her say

        “He is beautiful”



                          In a puddle

                          in the rain

                  the flapping sparrow                                              takes a bath


Cliff Bleidner

Cliff is a Haiku poet, formalist poet, PPA co-founder, PPA Coordinator

Again to the Stretch Rack


writing is sometimes torture

as the words appear from

left to right

down the page

line after line of

pain pain pain

like being racked by some

invisible inquisition

for some unknowable crime


it was cheap psychoanalysis at first

until I needed psychoanalysis and got it

it was for self expression

until I learned to express myself

with the help of others

it was for self discovery

until I learned that too

it was crying tears of black ink

into handkerchief paper

until they ran dry


it is now to produce a work of fine art

bring it to perfection

by wheel chain and shackle

of the editing process

my blood black ink

my body 8 1/2 by 11 white paper

I recant

I recant

I recant


Cliff Bleidner





that ship

upon the ocean

my Zen Master said to me

now how the hell can I do that? so

stern he sits there staring and leaving I bow



Cliff Bleidner




I am a flute

god blows through

my crown Chakra

one long note


by fingering my

other Chakras

beautiful music

pours forth


as long

as I




Cliff Bleidner



Beautiful face

stunning figure

too bad she’s a mannequin



full moon on a starry night

until pond ripples

give it away



on the gravestone

a cameo of a woman

wearing a cameo



by herself on the bare stage

the master cellist

poises to play



his head the roof

his knees the fender




pole vaulter rising

up up up over the bar

lets go of the pole



spreading itself out

beneath two feet of water

the crocodile waits


                        Cliff Bleidner

Performance Poets Association®