marquez dipperwell White play-dough houses Falling over themselves limply, Round fat legs and no ears. They hunch inwards and breathe, Whooshing noises that wake us as flour-coated walls expand. I say honey, honey, get up. But you are consumed and covered. Leaving our bed, the sun slides in Cuddling rosily with the curves. You sleep under the dough. The house is filling up Cracking on the outside wincing when the light enters raw, pink caverns breaking shoulders. It is rolled into a stumpy ball with you inside its insides and sits like a petulant child Although I know it feels no one. I look around the morning, outside it is green and vast And pleasingly empty. There is me, and a ball of bread, and the horizon slouching over curling into itself. 060311 ... dipperwell The avocado slides through my gums Like an otter Smooth-wetly. Presses into a tooth, Spreads on my tongue, Glues to the palate. Sensual. The bread follows insistently. Skinny folds of lettuce jealously stomp around wishing someone would chase after them. The mayonnaise ignores. Water floods the room, quells the conversation, sends them to a sudden death, Only corpses remain. Inert, motionless, knocking on occasion against the teeth with the idiocy of puppets as the ocean storms in. Down in the pharynx, Seagulls faintly cry. 060313 ... z this page is beautiful. 060313 ... dipperwell I caught something luminous the other day In a shaded alley with grape vines coughing up lattice and purple berries Newspaper boys flickered past Doors swung open with mountain goat moans Clattering shut like old jail keys, you and me Softness and pleasure and pale grasses Ground up below the cobblestones and Found its way into my hand while I searched impatiently for the sex my whole life was lacking (and the yeast of my heart, make it grow) A little piece of luminous, I wouldn't have recognized but it lumesced. And strange swooping things whirled in and snatched it, glancing at me imperiously with haughty distant faces I sat there, leaning against a metal bicycle, Peddlers tottering by and children stealing the fat tomatoes, Torn notes from higher chords assaulting The shrill, wonderful, wild daylight and I in the corner pocket having caught something luminous only to change the angle and watch it dim. 060313 ... dipperwell she sits on a tragicbeautiful planet inhabited by hand-holding flowers and amethyst coffee mugs. She laughs and the sea rolls into a cube, the stars nudge eachother slyly, and office carpets blush in sunset colours. oh. 060313 ... z yes 060313 ... dipperwell Jealous and foolish like violins wailing, She hid herself under the stairwell her face buried in petticoats, tears sliding through a white eyelet like clear lima beans slipping out of starched cotton fingertips. The piano played a romping happy thing- She smacked her fists hard together like coconuts. Dug talons into her shoulderblades, this did. In a second she knew she would die, from the sharpness of her, from the pretty people in the other room, from the desperation for something she didn't think she wanted. They were drinking lots of red wine, spilling it on the piano, singing high thrilling opera notes, puffing away on long cigarettes. Dressed elegantly, making witty, thoughtful banter, being the gorgeous arts. One could do nothing but adore them she felt violated, raped and the ache, ache, ache of his presence vanished. 060313 ... dipperwell The narrow schoolboy was standing on his desk, waving a stick at the teacher. The other children did not speak. He was gaunt and muscled. The teacher stared out of one eye, gaping expressionless, smeared all over with red sticky goo, impaled in the bottom, a big raw grin carved out of the apple by the ants. Sat in the chair wetly. The floor was a candied puddle. His grandmother smiled at him with supreme benefaction. "The skin on that one peeled in the oven," she said. "But it baked jest fine, it'll taste all right." He chose a different one. It was simply too grotesque, opened up and bright white, a wide-eyed, stupid smile. He saw the apple fall over and learned some fates are worse than death, but determined not by experiencing them, but by grieving someone someone alive. A big idiotic apple, panting and smiling and blank. Or never there at all, every bit as bad. Just a hole in the melted candy, a round empty feeling Where someone had disappeared without the licking of lips, the running over the chin, not even a napkin of proof. Just a slow death on a sidewalk, unnoticed by anyone but the colonies. 060313 ... z yes. 060314 ... dipperwell The fog presses into my skin smothering each baby cell with breathy attention things are caught in stillness like old decomposed leaves sleeping with unbearable quiet under the deep puddles They do not stir. Like photographs of movement, frantically motionless. Strange things happen in fog, thorns grow out of the trees houses lose attics in the clouds people blur in and out exposed negatives. But in slow gradient. Every defining line being whispered. Sour sugar in my mouth, rubs my tongue raw and reminds me that I cannot fade. Things appear when one is alone, foggy ideas suddenly. Ghostly apparitions asking very soft questions like: Is what you want What you want Or is what you want What you want To want? Little dreamy circles, being etched in the air and disappearing just as soon as they are made like breathing hotly on a mirror just long enough to trace your name or someone else's Ephemeral, if it disappears it still lies underneath. Decomposing leaves Or a girl in the fog- An untouched drop of water winds away into the sun. 060315 ... z i like these very much. 060316 ... dipperwell Nowdear. Raised an eyebrow. Do you honestly think- Nomother. He looked off idly, The window blinds were swinging Like wet fettucine dangling from the fingers of a pasta scoop Reminiscing. He tasted flesh. Warm testicles floating gently by, cupped in the cavern under his chin. Stomach growls. Her ballerina foot tapped the parquet. He suddenly felt quite distinctly like the inside of a bowl. Between each tap a flood of thoughts ebbed and brimmed over and filled up again: How funny the sound of curettes against the uterine walls How strange the speculum that widened her eyes in disbelief How smooth the indoor tin. Everything seemed mottled white. She sighed like a bitch, He realized that he hated her, rose abruptly and turned the dangling bar; closed the blinds. He could see the slick, sweat-darkened skin gleaming from under the sterile sheets. Solemn eyes boring in his as mouth fumbled its way around, sucked. Both eyes close, they have made sure to lock the door hide the light in the windows, GodIloveyou urgent cries and pleas. An emptied bowl clattering onto the parquet: Nowdear. 060317 ... dipperwell Gentler than thou and that I am afraid Pink city shadows and white lemonade Small bridges and door keys Old nylons on sore knees reflected in beech trees that grow in the glade. Unrepentant I lost you my frailty consumed you bored into and moved you it stubbornly threw you The days when I had you the bed that we made. For windows unopened and bath soap unsoftened for you, so repentant and I, in contempt for beauty diminished in mouldy old fountains for the dreams I unspooled and the threads I undreamt - 060317 ... dipperwell The audience rose up and scattered off like pool balls dropping into corner pockets lit with red exit signs only he remained young, wild-eyed, chest heaving the thrill of the night burning through him. He could not fathom; frothy lips of the actors wiped off on lemon towels prop girls giggling having breasts rubbed by crew boys with penny-cleaning thumb circles or the ticket stubs in the wind. It mattered not. He stared at the abandoned stage before his eyes the grand piano black, gleaming, sleek, curvaceous turned with silent oily grace and gazed at him, expressionless, like a regal bull. The piano stool with claw feet little and curly and knobbed stuffed with a faded mint green cushion the golden threads worn into cotton perked up and ran around its mother's legs, obnoxious and eager and cute. The empty music stand twisted an impossibly long neck, leapt down from the stage bounded up to him and slashed his eyes out like a flat butcher's knife. He opened them, breathed deeply the piano motionless the stool absent of impudence the stand made no sign. He felt an ox with white teeth smile, he had the finale within him curtains could not stop the brimming tide that brewed. 060321 ... marked . 060322 ... dipperwell little things are blowing around and I am smiling in the tamarind wind pale blue taffeta hung up everywhere and pigs rooting for truffles in the dirt. it gives great cool breaths in my ears, in out in out faster and stronger, and without a doubt I know I'm flying careening bouncily over groceries below and upwards, on unknown vectors, twistily. freedom, white flags announcing victory, I blow through the laundry on the line not an aspiration in sight but trying out, experimenting with that hand or this leg, and nowhere to go but sideways. 060417 ... Hindemith yep, definitely have a crush on dipperwell. 060418 ... dipperwell Right now, he cautiously opened things and closed them confident, focused jotting things down charmed with the idea of it. the experiment wilted, like so many others. he put the test tubes and beakers in a cardboard box, sighed, and looked around. disappointed. but nevertheless, with the grace of someone who had failed at something remarkable. unsuccessful, he thought, but not insignificant. that was when the smart black shoes clapped down the hallway, and a gaggle of his colleagues passed the darkened room. Paused. "Wasn't he--" They were chuckling. Making a mess with all those ridiculous little papers... Reinventing the wheel, chasing his tail. Nevermind the failing, he had taken on something downright trivial; benign. A side dish that never made it onto the menu. I wish I had never fucking met you. 060523 ... forn no tin of condensed milk will make this okay, not that I've asked yet. nor loaves of bread from that place, heads poking into the shower or just tell me what to do and I'll do it. I'm just as lost, lying here in the steam as this thing rains down on me, probably picking up the bleach you cleaned the drain with, if that's what it was, but nothing burns, so. So. impossible to explain, this yearning to be fresh muslin spring, corduroy autumn or wet wool winter; anything but this tear-stained summer lying defeated in the tub, slip-sliding back in, under this hot spray more noisy than wet where sadness goes to die. or rejoin the colony. or bleach itself bone-dry. o, honey this showerhead does the crying for me. 110814 ... forn this water we can't see small licks and hisses on the cheeks of the pier ink plumes of night, scattered with little white teeth like kitten fangs you and I, tentative-shoed straining our eyes into the yawning throat of this dark lake guarded by own own good etiquette we preserve chatter like canned peaches but its giant mouth says hush this is nice, I interrupt and softly you concur. just a little foam to lick off each other's lips. 110905 what's it to you? who go blather from