Returning to a distant colour | Blue of the drained lake | Snow on imaginary mountains | the real snow | melts | Each day with its end, and the holes in the air | you slide through | Fugitive pianists, an old lover with her long fingers | Stir-frying and sorting | Trying to record | all the steps to the impromptu | haze of that evening | Weighing the mist | and the laundry | Common things | glowing | Your children | roll all their dreams towards the morning | In the stream outside, small pebbles | roll to | the blue | calm of the lake

Hands touch in | lost addresses | We mislay the mountain | find a button | Raw umber of wet mud | where fish flip and writhe | Cracked | map | and Angie almost 20 now | Baked soil | where the mercury | reaches | bones like keys | She comes | to the wedding | says little, is she | happy? | His scent, rich, pregnant | like a text | fresh from the press | We chart the sunrise | file the moon | Scales | bob and float | Phone calls to | pools of blood | Each day with its end, and the holes in the air | you slide through

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from the series fleeting pixel (series of 1,000 poems, 2012–2016)

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