To Kiss


They are kissing, on a park bench,
on the edge of an old bed, in a doorway
or on the floor of a church. Kissing
as the streets fill with balloons
or soldiers, locusts or confetti, water
or fire or dust. Kissing down through
the centuries under sun or stars, a dead tree,
an umbrella, amid derelicts. Kissing
as Christ carries his cross, as Gandhi
sings his speeches, as a bullet
careens through the air toward a child's
good heart. They are kissing,
long, deep, spacious kisses, exploring
the silence of the tongue, the mute
rungs of the upper palate, hungry
for the living flesh. They are still
kissing when the cars crash and the bombs
drop, when the babies are born crying
into the white air, when Mozart bends
to his bowl of soup and Stalin
bends to his garden. They are kissing
to begin the world again. Nothing
can stop them. They kiss until their lips
swell, their thick tongues quickening
to the budded touch, licking up
the sweet juices. I want to believe
they are kissing to save the world,
but they're not. All they know
is this press and need, these two-legged
beasts, their faces like roses crushed
together and opening, they are covering
their teeth, they are doing what they have to do
to survive the worst, they are sealing
the hard words in, they are dying
for our sins. In a broken world they are
practicing this simple and singular act
to perfection. They are holding
onto each other. They are kissing.

Dorianne Laux

To kiss; where all thoughts are dissolved, where we are ready to let go of everything we think we know and hope we can control. When two people become their own purpose.


It is Born

Here I came to the very edge
where nothing at all needs saying,
everything is absorbed through weather and the sea,
and the moon swam back,
its rays all silvered,
and time and again the darkness would be broken
by the crash of a wave,
and every day on the balcony of the sea,
wings open, fire is born,
and everything is blue again like morning.

-Pablo Neruda

Let go, in order to begin anew. -tM

Midsummer Truths

Lone Gentleman

The gay young men and the love-sick girls, 
and the abandoned widows suffering in sleepless delirium, 
and the young pregnant wives of thirty hours, 
and the raucous cats that cruise my garden in the shadows, 
like a necklace of pulsating oysters of sex
surround my lonely residence, 
like enemies lined up against my soul, 
like conspirators in bedroom clothes
who exchange long deep kisses to order. 

The radiant summer leads to lovers
in predictable melancholic regiments, 
made of fat and skinny, sad and happy pairings: 
under the elegant coconut palms, near the ocean and the moon, 
goes an endless movement of trousers and dresses, 
a whisper of silk stockings being caressed, 
and womens breasts that sparkle like eyes. 

The little employee, after it all, 
after the weeks boredom, and novels read by night in bed, 
has definitively seduced the girl next door, 
and carried her away to a run-down movie house
where the heroes are studs or princes mad with passion, 
and strokes her legs covered with soft down
with his moist and ardent hands that smell of cigarettes. 

The seducers afternoons and married peoples nights
come together like the sheets and bury me, 
and the hours after lunch when the young male students
and the young girl students, and the priests, masturbate, 
and the creatures fornicate outright, 
and the bees smell of blood, and the flies madly buzz, 
and boy and girl cousins play oddly together, 
and doctors stare in fury at the young patients husband, 
and the morning hours in which the professor, as if to pass the time, 
performs his marriage duties, and breakfasts, 
and moreover, the adulterers, who love each other truly
on beds as high and deep as ocean liners: 
finally, eternally surrounding me
is a gigantic forest breathing and tangled
with gigantic flowers like mouths with teeth
and black roots in the shape of hooves and shoes. 

-Pablo Neruda

Pen Me a Love Letter

Photography: Unknown | Lovers Wall | Verona, Italy

Photography: Unknown | Lovers Wall | Verona, Italy

Pen me a love letter, send me a love fax, type me a lovers email, Ioveisloveisloveislove, but without the beautiful sentiment of the written word, it loses its immortality.

Make love immortal again. -tM

"I love you because you are you, and because you taught me how to understand…Thus you increased me..My eyes need [you]…and my heart is happy about you." -Love letter from Claude Monet

“We get old and get used to each other. We think alike. We read each other’s minds. We know what the other one wants without asking. Sometimes we irritate each other a little bit. Maybe sometimes take each other for granted.

“But once in a while, like today, I meditate on it and realize how lucky I am to share my life with the greatest woman I ever met. You still fascinate and inspire me. You influence me for the better. You’re the object of my desire, the #1 earthly reason for my existence. I love you very much.” 

-Johnny Cash to June Carter Cash

"It takes a huge effort to free yourself from memory."  -Love letter from Paulo Coelho

JANUARY, 1912 "Now I will say goodnight, as any other time. I kiss you and then I say goodnight and then I open the door and then I go out to the streets with a full heart and a hungry soul. But I always come again to kiss you and to say goodnight and to open the door and to go out to the street with hungry soul and full heart."

JULY 8, 1914
"I always thought that when people understand us, they end up enslaving us — given that we accept anything in exchange of feeling understood. However, your comprehension brought me the most profound peace and freedom I have ever experienced. In the two hours of your visit, you found a black spot in my heart; you touched it and it went away forever, allowing me to see my own light." 

-Love letters from Khalil Gibran to Mary Haskell


Photography: tM

Photography: tM

Never Blame Anyone
by Pablo Neruda

Never complain about anyone, nor anything,
because basically you have done
what you wanted in your life.

Accept the difficulty of improving yourself
and the courage to start changing yourself.
The triumph of the true man emerges from
the ashes of his mistake.

Never complain about your loneliness or your
luck, face it with courage and accept it.
In one way or another it is the outcome of
your acts and the thought that you always
have to win.

Don’t be embittered by your own failure or
blame it on another, accept yourself now or
you’ll keep making excuses for yourself like a child.
Remember that any time is
a good time to begin and that nobody
is so horrible that they should give up.

Don’t forget that the cause of your present
is your past, as well as the cause of your
future will be your present.

Learn from the bold, the strong,
those who don’t accept situations, who
will live in spite of everything. Think less in
your problems and more in your work and
your problems, without eliminating them, will die.

Learn how to grow from the pain and to be
greater than the greatest of those
obstacles. Look at yourself in the mirror
and you will be free and strong and you will stop
being a puppet of circumstances because you
yourself are your own destiny.

Arise and look at the sun in the mornings
and breathe the light of the dawn.
You are part of the force of your life;
now wake up, fight, get going, be decisive
and you will triumph in life. Never think about
luck because luck is
the pretext of losers.

The message is loud and clear, never play the victim and accept yourself and the circumstances of your life. Another noteworthy poem and memo from the late great P.N. -tM

Things that Matter

Keeping Quiet
by Pablo Neruda

Now we will count to twelve
and we will all keep still.

For once on the face of the earth,
let’s not speak in any language;
let’s stop for one second,
and not move our arms so much.

It would be an exotic moment
without rush, without engines;
we would all be together
in a sudden strangeness.

Fisherman in the cold sea
would not harm whales
and the man gathering salt
would not look at his hurt hands.

Those who prepare green wars,
wars with gas, wars with fire,
victories with no survivors,
would put on clean clothes
and walk about with their brothers
in the shade, doing nothing.

What I want should not be confused
with total inactivity.
Life is what it is about;
I want no truck with death.

If we were not so single-minded
about keeping our lives moving,
and for once could do nothing,
perhaps a huge silence
might interrupt this sadness
of never understanding ourselves
and of threatening ourselves with death.
Perhaps the earth can teach us
as when everything seems dead
and later proves to be alive.

Now I’ll count up to twelve
and you keep quiet and I will go.

Detach from the doing and be there in the stillness of life for awhile. -tM


Lovers Rock

Love continued...

I am in the wilderness
You are in the music
In the man's car next to me
Somewhere in my sadness
I know I won't fall apart completely

When I need to be rescued
And I need a place to swim
I have a rock to cling to in the storm
When no one can hear me calling
I have you I can sing to

And in all this
And in all my life

You are the lovers rock
The rock that I cling to
You're the one
The one I swim to in a storm
Like a lovers rock

I am in the wilderness
You are in the music
In the man's car next to me
Somewhere in my sadness
I know I won't fall apart completely

And in all this
And in all my life

You are the lovers rock
The rock that I cling to
You're the one
The one I swim to in a storm
Like a lovers rock

You are the lovers rock
The rock… 

Lovers Rock, Sade


Photography: Unknown

Photography: Unknown

Hot summer nights, mid-August, 

"Like conspirators in bedroom clothes, we exchanged long deep kisses." - Pablo Neruda (excerpt from The Lone Gentleman paraphrased)

Weeks of boredom satiated by momentary eclipses of lust and happy pairings.

Cigarettes after sex, your lips, my lips; definitively seduced. -tM


On Pablo


ordinary everyday things are closely examined by Neruda. The aspects of our modern life are handled, turned around, and examined with love, care, and attention. 

Sensuous and powerful in conveying to us what we are at the root of our existence, there is something incredibly powerful about the way he glorifies mundane life experiences; urgently sweeping you away,  into a world established in truth and bound by nature in the most amorous of ways. It is truly the stuff that makes up life's narrative. -tM

If you feel ever so inspired to swim in the vast sea of his poetry a little longer, take the time to watch Il Postino, a beautiful film and reminder about what is truly important in life.

Amazing Hair

Photography: Unknown | Tracee Ellis Ross

I have always loved her. She exudes incredible beauty and confidence. That aside, she is also the master of all kinds of hairstyles. This one in particular is incredible. It's classic, sexy, sophisticated, and looks effortless (although perhaps that would not be the case on all hair types). I have replicated it on myself, and it is hands down a winner. If you are looking for some hair inspiration look no further then Tracee Ellis Ross. -tM