FACTURE
Š Caroline Knapp 2013
LRL little red leaves textile editions www.littleredleaves.com
FACTURE Caroline Knapp
little red leaves textile series 2013
Noon with Figures reticent wick. curve. gravity of grain. smoothing-irons hot across the landscape. horizontal passage and repassage of men. to eat bread and coffee in the gravity of them. wet grey names affixed. a damage. a welcome shade. and the gold-frame stands outside it. eye hears their talk up like gold-straw flicks in heat. the daypulse. it shepherds them. tend. tint. tind. tender.
[ 3]
[ 3]
Pastoral I’ll be a birch I’ll be a cottonwood I’ll be a coyote willow when they make their silk tassles
[4]
[4]
Portrait: Domestic the tablecloth’s clean plane her mind gone out into the things accompagnateur
candles as wax who goes
between shadow a dragged path snow
[5]
[5]
outline my shadow as interior curve as of a drum
waiting across contour stone field adherence to
attend field my sown under snow
[6]
[6]
each drift’s shadow the snow’s table on fire
[7]
[7]
Nature Morte pan gloss surface on everywhere this hard abeyance recoil of every starred grass every descripted against I will starve in the field I cannot taste come be watchful for me
[8]
[8]
Landscape a scrap a stand of shape in thin air
a palette knife the ah in claro held
to draw along a blade’s frame
[9]
[9]
my boy in light his black rectangle his red natural
hands open and everything falls helplessly through
gesture an invested line through feature
[10]
[10]
to figure from dark trouble that eye form will not forsake
is to craft of sharp an orphan shore a trace
making a a a a note to love
[11]
[11]
The Bathers one entwining of forms equally form moil and toss etcetera tourneur of arisen air in pines
a lit cloth and skin the body’s broad participle an unsupervised participant more sight than eye can reconnoiter recounter give
[12]
[12]
over to touch the vibration of dust through sieved light a horse rolls sheened glimpse the solid silhouette of
appearances what must be said does not exist anywhere within her unformulated a life more the river’s than
[13]
[13]
the radio back on some witness a wavered step glossed and armoured flies what this would look like
flesh as much as sunk pools the lowlands in full orison in pines
[14]
[14]
what does not exist anywhere would look like a blank between all forms equally in my lowlands
shore
distinguishment the cradle of things
[15]
[15]
I have left out artery beneath form artery
[16]
[16]
Portrait: Device what took me was light on either side. see how quiet . . . lee . . . shapes
a willow lets time through . . .
see, a bed full of hairpins. see, live riverbank twists and mossy
they had . . . the Flood-tide with them.
a gardens runns down a great way.
even so, divigate. willough . . .
you . . . with them by several stepps . . .
[17]
[17]
they came trailing . . . sheets pinned up . . .
to make rooms. whose that knocking.
... prest thorough the willowe ... a clean sieve and findings.
also see my face shell polyvocal lays woodgrain with water sets out meshd
traps.
[18]
[18]
they go where they never were bed full of shadow and cross passages.
I lay you down the local
quarter . . . worn with traverse and bright
in black footway
fountaining against the stream.
[19]
[19]
Portrait: Trace clad is door enough and take this
in a wave and it breaks
catching up see to that at hand and
I have my darted fit
this like a conduit
this like a labor
criede at thusse place
this is the wood they live in
hollow
[20]
[20]
a teeth and hipbone hinge
arrives the fresh skins
I have my facture
my fracture dissolves into is
this Bearer goes away so presently
+
this present like a facet
this with no perspectival or pictorial
arrives in like a wave and
[21]
[21]
weather-like
skins my brushes
+
are we not
clothed in
form
+
the weaver stands the loom
[22]
[22]
and bravely my
shaking still
still to shake in this to be brent
web +
this little wile
this morning
I have my composition
[23]
[23]
this afternoon
this evening
+
those roses are in a pile
that wind ope’d doors in the wood
I have flesh of my sap
my flash I seep
by perseverant workings the interior
like anything
[24]
[24]
else
little season
his is my house and this my
+
dead some residue
this kins
this the
+
I have this moment heard
[25]
[25]
+
this is my poore
gate
[26]
[26]
Still Life
nulle part danceuse
[27]
[27]
Portraiture what is left on the loom the warp the day verticals
note of eye-silks atonal rustle of parts bestirment
the beloved sleeps sweetly flung shaped sweetly sleeps I
[28]
[28]
and I see outward the generous the touched room
of and and the the trees’ courage through
surface the bare strung cord
[29]
[29]
Caroline Knapp lives and writes in Oakland, California. These poems, and their poet, owe glad debts to the de Young Museum, Maurice Merleau-Ponty, and Paul CÊzanne’s letters to Emile Bernard.
This little red leaves textile series chapbook was designed and sewn by Dawn Pendergast in Houston, Texas.