The UFO Gambit (looking back


It was a fractured night. I cried when I heard the singing from nowhere, so fragile, so empty. The
all-black sky was a switched-off monitor. Our bodies hot in the arms of the Hen Constellation,
we turned the heat up—insane vertigo, lust in the jello the jello the jello.

The moon was absent, dark & strange but real. What could we do but fuck through our pain &
stare out at space waiting for something? We never knew what. Our heads wrapped in our space
suits like a billion baked eggs, we seemed one innocent, ill-defined alien zapped by an x ray or
gamma burst, the flash of an ember bearing us quietly adrift in some imaginary cosmos we kept
pent up inside us.

& the something that occurred, occurred out of reach. We were seen from the air. We were seen
from the road—a stream of language like a blessing of ash. & between these two, the past was
alive but losing its voice.

& everyone… simply everyone on earth yearned to be elsewhere, to be 9 or 20 unresolved issues
away from the light years of childhood—a moon rock, a pet rock, a world we assembled inside
another smaller world, paradoxically denying each fragment its place in the cosmos.

& so we wandered alone on stellar mental moonscapes, scooping up samples for the lab boys
back home but where had we come to? & who were those others, those invisible others who
stood in our place wearing our countenance?


* * *


Raymond Farr is author of numerous books, including Ecstatic/.of facts (Otoliths 2011) as well as Starched, Rien Ici, & Writing What For? across the Mourning Sky. His latest book Poetry in the Age of Zero Grav. He is editor of the experimental poetry zine Blue & Yellow Dog.

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