Lava Lamps: A trilogy

Lava Lamp No.6

In a pale chamber
I brush my fingers
Cross your naked breast.

Behind the delta of venus,
Under parchment skin
Your loins, a lava lamp of flesh
Begin to melt.

I can feel the glow
reflecting off the walls.


Lava Lamp No.17

I often wonder
Why Martha Stewart
Rarely shares a decorating tip
Involving lava lamps.

Perhaps its latent sensuality
Frightens and arouses her.

I am certain that
She could thaw
Her cold New England charm
Before the throbbing glow
Of my lava lamp.


Lava Lamp No.21

When Druids walked the earth,
The fecund solstice moon
Sanctified the bridal chamber
With a silver shaft of light.

Later in Medici palaces
A candle’s golden glow
Marked the bouts of lust
And poisonings.

But in our sleek modernity
In towers of our cool decay
We illuminate our carnal rituals
With neon lava lamps.