Two Poems by Jason Hardung

DEAR MR. CARVER

I’m not blind
still I don’t know much
about cathedrals.
I do know the
spires twist like knives
into the guilty soul of man,
people in fancy clothes
kneel inside
begging for eternal life

while people out
on the streets
get on their knees
to make it through
one more day.
_______________
I’M GOOD

Its just past seven and the window
no longer frames the cold pink sun.
The trees are props bending
in a starry-eyed background.
Somewhere behind the lighted store front
the mountains rest well in all their dirty history.
I can’t see them but know they’re there-

I’ve got Colorado on my eyes
Los Angeles in my mind.

I had plans for you
you were supposed to become larger than life.
I pulled strings at your baptism, you laid back
to your ears in the mud of the L.A River
and those police helicopters
looked something like confused angels
lost in the sun.

Now you dance on tables in Little Armenia
those five inch heels no longer clicking together
in Judy Garland fashion
but your legs still look strong
almost like telephone poles.
And me, I’m frightened at what the postman brings
frightened another morning will break
without your insecurities keeping you around.
I found one of your hairs
and tied it to my wrist
I can’t remember why.
Sometimes comedies are the worst type of tragedy.

A mother’s intuition is never fleeting,
never like birds fleeing the shotgun echo,
nothing like a man with only four walls and a clock,
the only friend of a broken heart
burns going down and kills in the morning,
all a junkie shoots in the blood
are things he mistook for love,
the clown is only happy
until he finds a shoulder to cry on.

The window is all the way dark now
except for people standing under the street light
the cars, the movement, the hyperion glow.

Remember babe,
the stations of the cross don’t play rock and roll and

I never said I was good for you-
I just said I was good.

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10 Responses to “Two Poems by Jason Hardung”

  1. Jason Hardung was born and raised in Wyoming where the wind constantly spoke tongues in his ears. He now lives at the base of the Rocky Mountains in Ft. Collins, Colorado. His work has been published widely throughout the American underground. It has appeared in The New York Quarterly, Evergreen Review, Rip Rap (the Cal State Long Beach literary journal), Word Riot, Zygote In My Coffee, Monkey Bicycle, Underground Voices, decomP, Thrasher, Lummox Journal, Heroin Love Songs, Polarity, Up The Staircase, St. Vitus and many more. His first full length book of poetry, The Broken and The Damned came out on Epic Rites Press late 2009. He is currently working on his second book of poetry with Epic Rites and a memoir of Casey Niccoli. He has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize and is a co-editor of the Matter Journal.

  2. Linda Lerner Says:

    Very good–I like both, especially “Dear Mr. Carver”

  3. Don’t like to see the birds fleeing the shotgun echo either… lost tribes scatter in sunset soul… saw Rockies rise… carve canyons to L.A… Rt66 my commute… cp

  4. I’m glad to see Jason Hardung featured. I enjoy his poetry wherever I see it. I love both of these poems, especially the second one.

  5. Jason Hardung Says:

    Thanks Charles and Linda. Thanks fro reading.

  6. Jason Hardung Says:

    thank you pris. the feeling is mutual.

  7. David LaBounty Says:

    Great stuff, love the honest, surreal blood of I’m Good.

  8. Both of these pieces are astounding. I hope these two make it into your second book.

  9. Great work. Nothing more to say.

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