mourning sleepless darkness.
€œTempt me not, € saith the Lord God.
The spire’s skeleton reaching upward like a plea for shielding.
May is a slight way,
April an end to Chillihuani
March a crimson memory,
February a bursting crag,
and January a duality of whiteness.
mourning spiritual atrophy.
Tod Robbins was born in Salt Lake City, Utah, and now lives in the greater Seattle area where he attends the University of Washington’s Information School, studying library and information science. His poetry is peculiar like his worldview. He is an advocate for cooperative living, gardening, bicycling, and anything else that inspires one to love, to serve, and to build a community. Collections of his verse will be available on his personal website shortly: http://www.todrobbins.com.
To read more of Tod’s writing on WIZ, go here, here, here, and here.
3 thoughts on “Night Falls by Tod Robbins”
I like the image of the spire, shielding from some kind of retribution. It makes me wonder what the subject matter of this poem is. Wasted time, wasted seasons?
Intriguing how the chronological direction flows in this poem. Does things to the mind.
Thank you both!
Sarah, I think wasted time/seasons is definitely a central element of this one. Seasonal temptation of waste. 😉