Poetry

Victoria Field: Three Poems

Veal Calf I have no need to see the brazen light I only sense the confines of a wooden crate All that counts is flesh should stay the purest white I have no need to see the brazen light My eyes would find it harsh, its glare too bright Colours could confuse and shapes engender hate I have no need to see the brazen light It’s best to only sense the confines of my crate. Victoria Field   Orderly Carl Sandburg house—Connemara, Flat Rock He came here with seventeen thousand books each one marked with a slip of white paper…

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