Robert Hilles’ latest book of poetry, time lapse, refuses to stay in one place, or indeed, in one time. From the streets of Chiang Mai, Thailand, to recollections of building a romance, Hilles pitches us backwards into childhood anecdotes of an uncle with a glass eye and family lost in the fog. The poems in time lapse are like memories, fleeting, specific and ever-changing, at once in the present, past, and future.