Tides come closer. Crises spread at the pace we think we are securing ourselves against time. Opportunities lurk amidst the chaos of laptops, and timeframes drift into casual gestures. The Sea of Thetys is navigable. As buoys, the poems of Asmus Trautsch measure rhythms and produce new ones. What forces are at work in the currents that carry us, and in the self-manufactured ones that crash over us? What triggers the clock at the pulse? Is Kairos, the god of the opportune moment, a freak or a trickster?.