-Charles Rammelkamp, author, See What I Mean? and The Trapeze of Your Flesh

An autumnal feeling hovers over Jon Ballard's latest, austerely lovely collection, Where It Hurts. Not so much Keats's "Season of mists..." but Richard Wilbur's "In the Elegy Season," as when Ballard writes in "Late November Dusk," "so near is the season of resolutions." It's the feeling that things are ending, and not always well, that gives Where It Hurts its heft, like the phrase, "...pilgrim from my past..." in "Time Capsule," or this, from the poem "Assassin: " "long-time assassin of the heart." The beauty in these poems lies in their unsentimental nature, their ability to face loss and hurt and to keep on going, and even in their wry wit, as in the poem "After Dinner, We Advance: " "I warn you then I'm out / of practice in the art of seduction."

-Robert Cooperman, author, In the Colorado Gold Fever Mountains, Colorado Book Award for Poetry winner

Jon Ballard's Where It Hurts pulls readers into moments both intimate and haunting, where the mundane and the profound collide. With unflinching honesty and lyrical grace, these poems explore life's fragility and resilience. "Like a lost limb's phantom throb," this collection lingers in the heart and mind long after turning the final page.

-Eric D. Goodman, author, Faraway Tables and Tracks