The irony eats away at me.
He's got hope, literally.
and I'm stuck hopeless
starting to wonder how long
it'll be before i will
come to my senses and give up
on the boy who's given up on me

Last night we shared a rock in the sand. We sat close, sipping off a large bottle of red wine. Watching the silver silhouette of the waves and the dance of the moonshine in the current, we passed the bottle back and forth and drank. In silence we were mesmerized. The moons reflection played there in the surf from someplace beyond the water, within it, vanishing and re-lighting and then vanishing again, like a game of sparks, of white hot fireworks, winking for us between each rise and fall of the waves. She was lost in the beauty of it and I was beside her lost all the same in its beauty and the beauty of the moment. The wine warmed my cheeks from the cool autumn breeze riding in onto the shore. She rested her head on my shoulder. All night long as we held the nakedness of one another, our figures tessellated beneath the sheets, I dreamt of the waves and the moonshine-sparks and her hair on the ***** of my neck. I dreamt of it all the next day. I write these words with the dream still fresh in my imagination. I am still dreaming of it; of her and the moonshine in the waves and the shape of her body flush against mine in the sheets and the softness of her skin and I cannot remember the moment before I fell asleep there but I can remember awakening and she was in my arms in the morning. My hands felt every curve of her flesh. I held the kiss, like one holds back tears, and then I kissed her. She moaned and squeezed my hand in hers and slightly lifted a corner of her lips. I fell back asleep. Now, for eternity, I shall be cleansed each time this dream returns, and left wondering at a curious emptiness when it falls away, until it washes over me again. Such is the way she comes and goes – a dazzling display of hot white flames and sparks – more magical than the light of the sun.

(c) Rafael Alfonzo

what to say, when you cannot help.

smile, when the work is overflowing,
when nothing froths properly. milk is not
my favourite thing.

never has been.

those dependant on never eating.
much.

a pause, a comma,here and there, sometimes
confuse. yet know the difficult task comes
easy in time, with practice.

you may not think so when the machine explodes,
covers in embarrasment. there is another mill.

some times it feels awkward.

the looms are still working.

sbm.

I'm ignored put aside
like I don't matter
might as well hide
no longer there is laughter
all there is,
silence

I feel as if I'm drifting
farther and farther away
no longer does she want to talk
sort her thoughts out with me
she just keeps her distance.

Every time I try
to talk to her I'm either
shunned of shut out
there's no more I miss you.

All I get now is
silence
silence so dull
silence so painful
silence so excruciating

It's good now
my eyes are open
to what I have
a glow that came from no where
for I was blinded by the lust

For never did I know
that she was who I loved
it took her to show me
who I cared about most

Never did it occur to me
that it was her,
her alone made me
see that I'm worth it

That all my demons can be fought
that all my anguish
that all my fear
can be conquered
that I can again
be happy and loved
and that maybe she'll love me still
even with my darkest secret.

My depression translates into artsy poetry.

Tobacco, the first intoxicant wrapping me in a gauze of sultry skip days,
Wine, beer, swimming pools with bikinis, suntans, tropicana oil,
Kansas heat on concrete. Lawrence, Ks, KU, art and black, red ochre conti crayons,

Life drawings of nudes on platforms, fat, poor,
glamorous models, how i wanted to be one of them
stripping myself in front of you all,
my young beautiful naked body
you'll never see that again.

Fresh grass and lemonade,
Volvos driving across our country
55mph...80 was faster.

One night stands
led to terror.

Hurting men forever.

Barns and Nobels stealing book
coffee was new
young at 25.

Walking the street in Kansas City,
Warwick street with it's three story walk up
trimmed colonial white
1995.

Tea, herbs, kale with sesame,
Health food shops on corners
young women of 23 starting their biz.
We could do it our own way back then.

Abortion, adoption, college graduation,
law school, med school, drop out,
write.

"I just don't feel right
I think we should just buy a test..."
I thought she was a fool
She was always so worried
About people,time,missing out
On life
Not me
At the time I was only worried about
My hangover and the cable man
I said " Baby, your crazy. The cable guy is suppose to be here
Between 10 and 1.
Your gonna have to wait."
She clenched her jaw
Glared at me
Rethinking her definition of hate
She had just come back
After walking out on me 3 weeks ago
But that was ok with me
She was a fine girl
Her face beamed beautifully
Screaming like the tortured moon
Her body dipped and climbed
Like new mountains
Like burning rivers
Like rainfall on dying trees
"I can't believe your making me wait!
I might be pregnant! Your ******* ridiculous!"
I said "Well if you are, it isn't going anywhere..."
She ran out and slammed the door
I chased her down the street
She stopped suddenly
vomited her mcdonald's breakfast
On the sidewalk
I held her hair
Maybe she was right
We got the test
I was standing with the cable man
Flipping through 900 channels
Then I felt it
My apocalypse
My judgment day
Death and life grinning
They always had it out for me
"It's positive." She said
Her eyes suffocating
Bulging with tears, hate, agony
They were dulled by deceit
By the nights of me not knowing
Where she was
But I loved her
So I didn't bring that up
Then she said "...how soon can you take me to the clinic? I can't ask my mom for money, but you just got
Your Christmas bonus right?"
She said it like she decided
weeks ago
She wanted no discussion of a life
With me
I said "yeah."
And soon it was done
And then we were too