Fugitivity is immanent to the thing but is manifest transversally


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


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.

Fred Moten, “Fugitivity is immanent to the thing but is manifest transversally” from hughsons tavern. Copyright © 2008 by Fred Moten. Reprinted by permission of Leon Works.
Source: hughson’s tavern (Leon Works, 2008)