If you like the Pages, then you’d probably like to have one delivered to your door every two weeks – right? You can get the next seven of them for £19 by clicking here. And look, we bathe together. Props to Alex ‘The Man with the Thighs’ Manthei, Editor in Chief of Two Words For, for the photo.
Lazy and sunny and sleepy Sunday evenings can blur by. So, we’ve decided that every week we’ll release some “Sunday Snippets” from the latest Page on our Twitter. We’ll put them on here too.
First up this week, is Hannah Spector’s ‘[peeling glass], which begins:
was made of fuzzy
glass and all
that was needed
of my body
so my mother
me lightly across
Next is a short excerpt from Jonathan Larson’s prose-piece ‘Eye 1’:
‘just a slim niblet I take into my hand as he takes into his hand but not yet into my pocket as he not yet into his pocket because it is not mine until I give back nothing really just brain space 1 gestured token 1 scale on which to set and consider the generational exchange taking and naeming 1 airrift between A & E’
The third #SundaySnippet is the opening stanza to Marie McGrath’s poem ‘Strange Man’:
‘After you cried the night before,
babbling moronic like you’d
never learned to speak at all,’
The final #SundaySnippet for this week comes from Erik Pederson’s short poem ‘Brush with death’…
‘& the best part of the car wash
occurs when the engorged red brushes come
and slap my car in unision’
They’re all from the first side of Page 20. We’ll tweet #SundaySnippets from the other side next week. If you’ve been lured in by these excerpts – then buy a copy from here to touch and smell and read for yourself.
So, like, yeh. We said some words in Florence at the NYU La Pietra Dialogues discussion on ‘The Power of Poetry in Contemporary European Society’ a few weeks ago. Some of these words were live-tweeted on their twitter feed, along with photos and other little bits. Here’s a few select segments of things that were said – and you can see the others on their twitter.
In the last few months, we’ve printed a few Pages with very slight errors inside that we haven’t wanted to sell. Rather than let them lay to waste, I’ve started leaving them on the underground and on buses and on benches and in cafes for people to read. If you pick one up or see one hanging around, let us know. Streetwords.
This is exactly the kind of reaction that reading Zelda Chappel’s ‘Icon’ in Page 18 can induce. Quotation –
“Afterwards the radio refused
to sing the way it used to
the sun rising silent in the glass
so as not to be noticed
slipping in days right under
You can have that very same reaction by getting the Page delivered to your door and then reading the words inside it here – http://www.bellevilleparkpages.com/#buy
Having recently realised that there aren’t really many photos of the Pages ‘open’, it was suggested that some of you might not even know what the hell the inside of the little critters looks like. Here they are, guts splayed out all over the rug back in Wolverhampton. In amongst the guts is Nina Mazodier’s piece ‘Last embrace’ which begins, surreally :
‘This one slender and annoying girl, continuously chewing a dead bird in the coffee shop queue’
Read it here: http://www.bellevilleparkpages.com/#buy
Oh hey, we’ve just turned 18. A big one. And to celebrate, we made the trip over the road to stand outside the permanently lit ‘Kentish Town Kebab’. Page 18 is released today with 12 writers inside. This is the third Page for the month of March 2014. We haven’t had 3 Pages in 1 month since July 2013 – and we definitely weren’t all grown up then. Enough numbers, buy a Page and read some words. http://www.bellevilleparkpages.com/#buy