Facture by Caroline Knapp

FACTURE

© Caroline Knapp 2013

L R Llittle red leaves textile editions

www.littleredleaves.com

FACTURECaroline Knapp

little red leaves textile series 2013

[3]

[3]

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 f licks in heat. the day-

pulse. it shepherds them.

tend. tint. tind. tender.

Noon with Figures

[4]

[4]

I’ll be a birch

I’ll be a cottonwood

I’ll be a coyote willow

when they make

their silk tassles

Pastoral

[5]

[5]

the tablecloth’s clean plane

her mind gone out

into the things

accompagnateur

candles

as wax

who

goes

between

shadow

a dragged path

snow

Portrait: Domestic

[6]

[6]

outline

my shadow as

interior curve

as of a drum

waiting across

contour

stone field

adherence to

attend

field

my sown

under snow

[7]

[7]

each

drift’s shadow

the snow’s table

on fire

[8]

[8]

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

Nature Morte

[9]

[9]

a scrap

a stand of

shape

in thin air

a palette knife

the ah

in claro

held

to draw

along

a blade’s

frame

Landscape

[10]

[10]

my boy

in light his

black rectangle

his red natural

hands open

and everything falls

helplessly

through

gesture

an invested

line

through feature

[11]

[11]

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

[12]

[12]

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

The Bathers

[13]

[13]

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

[14]

[14]

the radio back on

some witness

a wavered

step

glossed and armoured f lies

what this would look like

flesh as much as

sunk pools

the lowlands in full

orison in

pines

[15]

[15]

what does not exist anywhere

would look like

a blank between

all forms equally

in my lowlands

shore

distinguishment

the cradle of things

[16]

[16]

I have left out

artery beneath form

artery

[17]

[17]

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 . . .

Portrait: Device

[18]

[18]

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.

[19]

[19]

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.

[20]

[20]

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

[21]

[21]

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

[22]

[22]

weather-like

skins

my brushes

+

are we not

clothed in

form

+

the weaver stands the loom

[23]

[23]

and bravely my

shaking still

still to shake in this to be brent

web

+

this little wile

this morning

I have my composition

[24]

[24]

this afternoon

this evening

+

those roses are in a pile

that wind ope’d doors in the wood

I have f lesh of my sap

my f lash I seep

by perseverant workings the interior

like anything

[25]

[25]

else

little season

his is my house and this my

+

dead some residue

this kins

this the

+

I have this moment heard

[26]

[26]

+

this is my poore

gate

[27]

[27]

nulle part

danceuse

Still Life

[28]

[28]

what is left

on the loom

the warp

the day verticals

note of

eye-silks

atonal rustle

of parts bestirment

the beloved sleeps

sweetly f lung

shaped sweetly

sleeps I

Portraiture

[29]

[29]

and I

see outward the

generous the

touched room

of and and

the the trees’

courage

through

surface

the bare

strung

cord

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 Cézanne’s letters to Emile Bernard.

This little red leaves textile series chapbook was designed and sewn by

Dawn Pendergast in Houston, Texas.