©2021 Michael Raven

these are the
thistle hours
pricking with
silence & shadow
that long drag
to witching hours
pulling on the
minute hand so
threatening a
night of forevers
& time burning
fingers arthritic
hover, linger over
arrows in the dark
but decline to touch
passions &
held back while the
clock is finally

skin pop //

This is a spoken word version of a previously posted piece. Follow the link for the original poem.

This time, I played with background “music” for the recording, although it is more for mood-setting than to be listened to as music. This recording was made using Reason 10 and a few virtual instruments with some digital reverb mixed much lighter than the previous experiments — just enough to get rid of the dead-room feel.

skin pop // sceadugenga

©2021 Michael Raven Words found at
Photo by Dominika Roseclay on


©2021 Michael Raven

shuttle and shadows
the tangle woven
blind in the mountains dusk
with six hand tapestries
cluck clucks and tut tuts
snip sunder and skein
why the cliff walls
at every turn? struggle
asking them is like
asking the wind
bellows and the lungs
of spirits with eternal tasks
Photo by Skylar Kang on


©2021 Michael Raven

how does one touch
from a distance,
feel the warmth of
a lover's hand from
across half a sea
of humanity?

if you turn your head
just right at night
the wind carries vanilla
marked with cinnamon
from where they slumber
and dream

can you see?


lovers gasps at solstice
the air warned by the
heat of their hearts'

orchid //

©2021 Michael Raven

skin pop // sceadugenga

falling into this --
this tumble gliding on wings
snared by cinnamon-sun hair
caught in a dancing
sunlight cascade
framing those
oft-bit lips

autumn-stained garlands
around naked ivory kissed
guided hands leading
to secret gardens
through those locked
wrought gates
to share a single
fragile orchid

Photo by Olga on