Size / / /

On breathing water: first, relax—

accept that what is now

and what will come

are different.

Eyes closed, allow the water

to envelop your face. A liminal kiss

is a prayer and a promise.

Do not force.

Contract your stomach; hold tension:

the act of moving without motion.

Focus on the effort wasted

that makes you stronger.

Perspective.

Squeeze gently inwards, allowing fear

to leak away (in your breath, in your sweat). It

is becoming you. You

becoming it.

Inversion.

On leaving air: relax—

let nature follow flow, water

filling lungs.

This moment of transition

the gods adore, and now

is when the nanites set:

bubbles mark your last breath

of air.


Kaolin Fire is a conglomeration of ideas, side projects, and experiments. Web development is his primary occupation, but he also programs open source games, edits Greatest Uncommon Denominator Magazine, and occasionally teaches computer science. He has had short fiction published in Tuesday Shorts, Opium Magazine, Escape Velocity, and Alienskin Magazine, among others. For more information please vist Kaolin's web site: http://www.erif.org/.



Kaolin Fire is a conglomeration of ideas, side projects, and experiments. Web development is his primary occupation, but he also programs open source games, edits Greatest Uncommon Denominator Magazine, and occasionally teaches computer science. He has had short fiction published in Tuesday Shorts, Opium Magazine, Escape Velocity, and Alienskin Magazine, among others.
Current Issue
22 Apr 2024

We’d been on holiday at the Shoon Sea only three days when the incident occurred. Dr. Gar had been staying there a few months for medical research and had urged me and my friend Shooshooey to visit.
...
Tu enfiles longuement la chemise des murs,/ tout comme d’autres le font avec la chemise de la mort.
The little monster was not born like a human child, yelling with cold and terror as he left his mother’s womb. He had come to life little by little, on the high, three-legged bench. When his eyes had opened, they met the eyes of the broad-shouldered sculptor, watching them tenderly.
Le petit monstre n’était pas né comme un enfant des hommes, criant de froid et de terreur au sortir du ventre maternel. Il avait pris vie peu à peu, sur la haute selle à trois pieds, et quand ses yeux s’étaient ouverts, ils avaient rencontré ceux du sculpteur aux larges épaules, qui le regardaient tendrement.
We're delighted to welcome Nat Paterson to the blog, to tell us more about his translation of Léopold Chauveau's story 'The Little Monster'/ 'Le Petit Monstre', which appears in our April 2024 issue.
For a long time now you’ve put on the shirt of the walls,/just as others might put on a shroud.
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