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a mid afternoon poem/ provocation

Thinking with our presenters about fugitivity, refusal, flight and the limits of representation,

I'm reminded of a poem by Fred Moten:


… you have to refuse in real time with things that revise in real time when the wind is closed…

we quiver with work and revival. We carry ourselves till you ready to hear what that sound like (2015: 61).

Moten, F. (2015) The Little Edges. Middletown: Wesleyan University Press.

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