Poetry: Selections from Grayson LaGrange



Shit is Thicker than Blood

A good friend, of which I have none
Is worth the same thing
As your mother
Your father
Or whoever it was
That meant the most to you forever
Blood this, blood that
Spill their blood
Til their heart pumps air
And their lungs have left them breathless



Sideways

Long slender teeth,
Like a toothpick piercing an olive,
While your gaze is cast out yonder,
Sink in.
Later the wound noticed,
The damage done,
With no one else around,
Just the pattern of their escape in the sand,
Always sideways.



Won’t you Come Down?

Life is a lonely travel.
All the while you’ll clutch and grab,
At anything that’s a good distraction,
Or anyone you find intriguing,
That shambles in your path.
Like a drunk stumbling,
Clinging together like brambles.
Breaking their own dreams,
In the process of interrupting your time.
Both of you insignificant.
A match made in heaven.
Go now with the drunkard,
It’d be the same as going with yourself,
Only now there are two of you.
Latch on, both of you,
Like an unfound tick,
Fat and sanguine.
An early autumn leaf,
Soon to be browned,
After a courting from many colors of course,
And yelling at all around,
With a voice hoarse,
Shouting,
With me wont you come down?



October

When the time comes, weep not
Don’t give it more power than you already have
Toss your neatly written letter on the fire of infinite degrees
Whose flame has leapt from your control
Turning its hungry gaze in your direction
Ask not whence came the flame’s lament
Who held and struck those books of matches?
Your fingertips are black and tan
You never could apologize
Even clearly in the wrong
All who know you understand
When harvest comes, October catches,
The things which April helped along.





Grayson LaGrange is a poet and wanna be novelist. 

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