Our not being in most places |     | The scent of jasmine in the evening
|     | Battle against the triads

Loopholes |     | Diorama of the mountains | our looking in in giant aspect | A caress, leading to |     | And in the evening, light rain, a scent of eggs frying in a Fissler pan, the windows | open, despite the time of year |     | This place, soon | elsewhere


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