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The Embroideress
Su Wannian’s embroidery frame stood by the window.
The window faced north and admitted little sunlight throughout the year, but the…
She had sat beneath that window for twelve years, from the age of eighteen to thirty.
The window faced north and admitted little sunlight throughout the year, but the…
She had sat beneath that window for twelve years, from the age of eighteen to thirty.
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Recent Pieces
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Poetry
THE HELIX OF PERSUASION
Edward Johnson
We can’t go on like this,
pretending it’s about grammar.
The weight of days belies us out here
pretending it’s about grammar.
The weight of days belies us out here
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Other
the levelness of the game
Dustin Miller
You’ve seen the game, and likely played it.
Roll the golf ball up the short wooden incline. It comes back to you unless it drops…
first.
Roll the golf ball up the short wooden incline. It comes back to you unless it drops…
first.
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Screenplay
Broken Boys
Miles Grüne-Yanoff
INT. APARTMENT 1 – NIGHT
We open on a grey apartment, paint peeling off the walls in the corners. A radiator…
MAN 1 (60s) sits on the couch, slightly left of center, wearing a leather jacket and…
We open on a grey apartment, paint peeling off the walls in the corners. A radiator…
MAN 1 (60s) sits on the couch, slightly left of center, wearing a leather jacket and…
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Play
Jack-in-his-Kitchen
Daniel A. Rabuzzi
Setting: A broad kitchen under a low ceiling, flush with roseate light; bundles of…
The AUDITOR
Nosy knifey Jack pulls in a clabber of secrets.
The AUDITOR
Nosy knifey Jack pulls in a clabber of secrets.
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Fiction
The Cherry Tree
zahra sheykhi
I woke up this morning to the sound of birds rustling through the cherry tree’s…
Sunlight was slipping through the thin curtains, dancing across my bed in soft, golden…
I hadn’t even fully opened my eyes when I heard Grandma’s voice from the kitchen,…
Sunlight was slipping through the thin curtains, dancing across my bed in soft, golden…
I hadn’t even fully opened my eyes when I heard Grandma’s voice from the kitchen,…
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The world in another tongue.
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Sharp laughter. Serious intent.
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Ideas, interrogations, and personal maps.
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Truth, braided with form and fire.
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Pieces of a larger, unresolved thing.
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Voices for the stage and beyond.
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From the archive
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
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.