Atlanticide

Atlanticide

Atlanticide Literature | Poetry He came between us, but not like a secret love affair there’s nothing secret about him there’s no affair we can see him though he’s absence not his absence                                    your absence.   my absence.   our...
Envelopes

Envelopes

Marco awoke with a muddled gasp. He was on his feet, midway between his study and the bedroom. The hall was dark, his throat dry. He put a hand against the wall and waited for the debilitating confusion to fade. Thankful he hadn’t tumbled down the stairwell, he plodded to the bathroom for a drink from the tap and slid back into bed beside Connie. He rubbed his eyes and was asleep within minutes.

Singularity Ex Nihilo

Singularity Ex Nihilo

Words show nothing. Out of nothing
Come the wondrous things.
Words are light, in the beginning:
There is awe in the silence of light.
Commune, at night, with your heart upon your bed,
And be still. Out of darkness
Come the wondrous things
Ex nihilo, out of the space
Of the slightly smiling expression
On the face of light.
Ironies of something
And nothing, goodness transforming,
That its joy may be made complete:

A Bitter Candy

A Bitter Candy

We’re all little people down here,
don’t pray with our hands.
Four-legged at the beginning/
you’re a winged-thing aren’t you?
Still scared of the dark,
we sleep under the sheets.
Father’s climbing up the ladder.

Nick the Art Kid

Nick the Art Kid

Nick the art kid
Who introduced me to whorehouses and cocaine
Showed me that hedonism was a sinless path
That pleasure was the only true pleasure
And that we live inside a dream

Join our mailing list to receive the latest posts and updates from our Acta.

You have Successfully Subscribed!