sloth hand wolf paw

the story leads you.

B Felix Lane — Thu, 28 Jul 2011 00:10:52 +0000

north north always north
and I will always return.
I feel young and old here
comfortable to make my own things
in your kitchen.
we know how to speak and what to say
and I am warm, familiar
safe.

warmth.

B Felix Lane — Thu, 21 Apr 2011 01:58:23 +0000

A warm evening out of doors with sprinklers and green grass in our background.

A pink cup full and all the voices across the wooden slats sound.

A leap against the wall, a heat filled tumble and a fall down.

A time to be, not forgotten.

A future to be found.

running mouth.

B Felix Lane — Fri, 25 Mar 2011 20:38:12 +0000

My mouth tastes like blood when I finish my run. My chest gets tight and cold as I run past the girls on their way to school. The school is at the top of the park so I have to huff my way past up the hill. When I get home I have to spit into the bathroom sink, occasionally glancing up to see my face all red and flushed in the mirror, and then spitting again. My ears feel like they are burning inside. I do 25 sit-ups on my bedroom floor and then I have a shower. I use a flannel, face wash, 2 in 1 shampoo and conditioner and shower cream. The smell reminds me of someone’s house, where it was kept in small pink bottles.

Later on I am in Topman trying on vests. They have an offer on that means you get 2 vests for £12, which is a saving of £2, but I decide that I will just buy one vest. I try on a medium and a small and think that the small is best. I go and buy it in grey and I say yes when the assistant offers me a bag. He has plugs in his ears, stretching them out, I guess at a size 12 or 14. There is a barber shop on the top floor, nestled in at the back of the shoe department and I decide to get my hair trimmed. I am told it will be £16. The man cutting my hair has lots of his own, piled up on top of his head, and he tells me that he is running the London marathon in a few weeks. He has been training for 6 months. I can see a bit of a tattoo poking out from the top of his t-shirt and he has scrubby black nail varnish on. The shampoo that he uses smells like mint. This is the second time my hair has been washed today.

On the train in the afternoon, I hear someone’s phone ring. They have the Antiques Roadshow theme as their ringtone. The voice I hear when the phone gets answered is not the voice I am expecting based on that ringtone. There are a couple sitting opposite me. The man is asleep with his head against the window and the woman is asleep on the man’s shoulder.

I fall asleep later on the train home. I put my grape coloured hat on and pull my coat over me. I wake up just before Stratford, which is where I need to get off. The lights on the train are really bright and my eyes are all tight and my little finger has gone numb from where I have been asleep on my hand. I get off the train and walk towards the Jubilee line. My mouth tastes like blood again.

diva.

B Felix Lane — Thu, 17 Mar 2011 16:56:05 +0000

We got published

beatrice mcguire

B Felix Lane — Tue, 08 Mar 2011 13:38:09 +0000

Beatrice McGuire drew these and she is awesome. We have a blog:

beatriceandbeatrice.wordpress.com

day trip.

B Felix Lane — Tue, 22 Feb 2011 10:13:31 +0000

Our feet on the beach. Sea air, a small dog, stapled and bound things in pockets.

this body of yours.

B Felix Lane — Tue, 01 Feb 2011 09:38:29 +0000

Oh how can I be still with this body of yours, this full up light plain to rest upon dear one.

night time taste.

B Felix Lane — Wed, 12 Jan 2011 23:35:52 +0000

This is a night time taste, an old memory. I heard something in parts, a bit of war and peace, and it took me right back to just before I climbed in beside you. There is not time now to explain or begin to understand, I slipped outside that day and have been watching ever since, looking through that thick and blurry divide, seeing only shapes and echoes and a faint trace. I come up to the window in the mornings, before the sun is fully up, my eyes adjust to the fresh light and I can see it all laid out, I press my hands up to cold glass and I lower my head and breathe to clear it. Other languages speak to me about what I did and did not do, how I might have forgotten how to speak to myself. Trying to correct my insides, fingers still up against that glass, I slip into tears and push the top of my head against it.

soon the spring will come.

B Felix Lane — Fri, 07 Jan 2011 12:53:20 +0000

like a rock.

B Felix Lane — Fri, 07 Jan 2011 12:36:30 +0000

Solid is the time and the place we are in my dear, around us like a rock. But between you and I an ocean will form, sea breaking and falling around our heads, upturned to face the air and catching breath.

I will do my usual things, brushing of teeth, eating of toast, labeling the jars and re-ordering the plates. In this small space I will make it all fit perfectly well.

Solid is the rock. You know me too well already.