john matthew riva's :: :: posterous

Cold confronts warmth
Cloud as breath.

Force upon the gentle
A blanket of spears.

Limbs twist and bow
Crying in the night.

Revealing new forms
In soft violence.

the crowd surges

upon shelves

of endless bounty

the aroma

of herbs and green

of flowers and fruit

of bread and honey

of apples and maple

they swirl about

wide open eyes

their voices loud

humbled

by the clambering

of feet

the colours

they bleed

merging

in a sea of plenty

of toil and pride

of shared tables

of history's memory

in the joy

of connection

with the land

against the grain
wheels roll
over damaged black
tarmac
frozen in motion
waiting
in quiet frustration

heels leed legs
feels slow
cracking as they hit
timing
from green to flashing
striking lines
lost in a rhythm

A Fading heat
Painted surface
Last light lingers
Setting clouds ablaze

music credit : "burning hell" : by Tom Jones

note : no ac : nyc : c-line = hell : hence the track and feel ;-)