Elisa Gabbert / Chris Tonelli / Eels
Chris Tonelli, The Trees Around
Elisa Gabbert, The French Exit
Poem with Diorama
What are you looking at, dog.
OK, I don’t belong in the park,
with nature: I’m not enough rich,
not enough poor; the fluff from a tree
makes my heart sore. I’m not crazy.
I just prefer the feminine remove
of a reproduction, of a living room—
the miniature texts exquisitely real,
if you had the means to read them.
Tiny poison in the wallpaper
in theory would eventually kill you.
Did you know fruit flies can have sex
for twenty minutes? That’s like half
their lifespan. There’s a couple going at it
on the parquet floor. The future
of the species depends on it. Unless
they’re just writhing in death throes—
hard to tell at this size. Either way
I’m not traumatized.
Eels, Electro-Shock Blues
Eels, End Times
Cancer for the Cure