Vaguely you notice they do not square:
these flying mobile sources in your atmosphere
at emotion’s outermost alien-edge.

Enigmatic points of no return,
they fleet a second or two across distracted nerves,
never ever leaving memory.

You only know they’ve been,
not what they matter — Unidentified Feeling Objects
for something you won’t be yet

or for a thing crowded complacency —
like a colony of sea-birds on a jagged cliff —
perpetually in its chatter overlooks,

but where, normally, you cannot listen
their keener tuning in you half-divines
sub-audible fossil water’s undertones.

2 thoughts on “U.F.O.s

  1. Hi Simon, my name is Yi. I’m a PhD student of translation studies. I’m now working on your translation of Zhang Ailing’s 桂花蒸 阿小悲秋, Steamed Osmanthus Flower: Ah Xiao’s Unhappy Autumn. I have some questions about your work and your opinions about translation. I was wondering if we can talk about this through email or by other means of communication?


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