Facture by Caroline Knapp

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.

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[ 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

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[5]

outline my shadow as interior curve as of a drum

waiting across contour stone field adherence to

attend field my sown under snow

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[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

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[9]

my boy in light his black rectangle his red natural

hands open and everything falls helplessly through

gesture an invested line through feature

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[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

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[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

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[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

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[14]

what does not exist anywhere would look like a blank between all forms equally in my lowlands

shore

distinguishment the cradle of things

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[15]

I have left out artery beneath form artery

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[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 . . .

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[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.

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[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

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[22]

and bravely my

shaking still

still to shake in this to be brent

web +

this little wile

this morning

I have my composition

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[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

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[24]

else

little season

his is my house and this my

+

dead some residue

this kins

this the

+

I have this moment heard

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[25]

+

this is my poore

gate

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[26]

Still Life

nulle part danceuse

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[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

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[28]

and I see outward the generous the touched room

of and and the the trees’ courage through

surface the bare strung cord

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[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.