Fugitivity is immanent to the thing but is manifest transversally
By Fred Moten
1.
between the object and the floor
the couch is a pedestal and a shawl
and just woke up her hair. she never
ever leaves the floating other house
but through some stories they call.
later that was her name the collaborator
of things shine in the picture. hand
flew off her early hair though held
by flowers. later her name was grete.
her hair feels angles by flowers that
before her name was shori the
penetrator in the history of no décor.
the station agent intimate with tight
spaces refuse to hit back or be carried.
later her name was danielle goldman
and his serene highness thierry henry.
her head is cut off by a shadow of primary
folded streets she harrass with enjoyment.
later her name is piet. she come from cubie
with the whole club economy in her hand.
when she reclines her head is lifted
by a turn, someone’s arm they left there.
later her name was elouise. watch her
move into the story she still move
2.
and tear shit up. always a pleasure the banned
deep brown of faces in the otherwise
whack. the cruel disposed won’t stand
still. apparatus tear shit up and
always. you see they can’t get off when
they get off. some stateless folks
spurn the pleasure they are driven
to be and strive against. man, hit me again.
Copyright Credit: Fred Moten, “Fugitivity is immanent to the thing but is manifest transversally” from hughson’s tavern. Copyright © 2008 by Fred Moten. Reprinted by permission of Fred moten.
Source: hughson’s tavern (Leon Works, 2008)