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Gluegun
Jaia Paitz · Poetry · July 2026
Draining in bucket of others Mixed craftly, tirelessly with palms and lip-drool of your …
Checking out the upcoming vacation Away, Skating on ebbs and flows of the shoreless desi…
Shelves of yearning are empty by the register, impulsively pushing the buy The hand pick…
Checking out the upcoming vacation Away, Skating on ebbs and flows of the shoreless desi…
Shelves of yearning are empty by the register, impulsively pushing the buy The hand pick…
From iExile Press
Bulă, or How We Invented Quantum
Jaia Papitz
A literary satire about laughter, bureaucracy, and the small cosmic errors that keep reality from sealing itself shut.
eases down the page as the book ages
Recent Pieces
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Creative Nonfiction
Winter Looks Familiar Until It Breaks You
Nancy Jorgensen
At the hospital, the nurse paused my husband’s gurney at the kissing corner, where, drug…
The nurse said I would see him in a few hours.
I’d slid into November happy to replace sweat-soaked t-shirts with sweaters and corduroys.
The nurse said I would see him in a few hours.
I’d slid into November happy to replace sweat-soaked t-shirts with sweaters and corduroys.
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Poetry
Old Stories
Jo Angela Edwins
Have you heard the one about the woman who went hiking / running / walking / riding / qu…
Of course you have.
So often that you, especially if you are not a woman, might call this story humdrum / th…
Of course you have.
So often that you, especially if you are not a woman, might call this story humdrum / th…
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Poetry
What They Left Behind
Jo Angela Edwins
The day after the phone companyjackhammered the asphalton this neighborhood street,the a…
What they left behind:buried cables, piles of clay,a few orange cones,a hillock of dirt …
Those cars that don’tbuck and rattle, churn updust that rises, then lingersin the air, s…
What they left behind:buried cables, piles of clay,a few orange cones,a hillock of dirt …
Those cars that don’tbuck and rattle, churn updust that rises, then lingersin the air, s…
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Poetry
peasant miasma
Allen Serafini
aches, stomachhead— screenstaring until terminal burnout fantasizing about …
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Poetry
drones
Allen Serafini
The amerikan poem reads like a nursery rhyme or perhaps the disjointed inner monologue o…
Half-baked and dated musings shellac’d into brand-new revelations— what else to expect f…
Whose are the features most likely to clear the optics bar?
Half-baked and dated musings shellac’d into brand-new revelations— what else to expect f…
Whose are the features most likely to clear the optics bar?
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From the archive
Jaia Papitz · 2011 · Poetry
A recovered text from the first iExile body — returned to circulation, not as nostalgia, but because it still burns.
Returned to circulation
2009 — Quest
Recovered text
2012 — Symbolics
Recovered text
2014 — Of Else
Recovered text