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.