JP

Author

Jaia Papitz

125 works

Jaia Papitz is the founder and, sometimes editor of iExile. He writes poetry and essays, with occasional satire and fiction, and has published over 120 pieces on the site since 2007. He is the author of Bulă, or How We Invented Quantum (2026) and Voidward (2025), both from iExile Press. His photography work may be seen at photoExile.

Genres: Essays Fiction Poetry
Poetry

A la …

Trust stone's soul
It will dance your mirage
Closer & closer

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Poetry

A play, two play

The shooting stars came out early today
Like home alone brats
Just to play

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Poetry

A sigh

The glimpse and its belongings stopped
I was afraid
along

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Fiction

A town close to nowhere

From above everything seems close to nowhere. The steps, the dreams and hopes, the bus station or the bus itself seem to take us nowhere. The Globe itself seems to...

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Poetry

After a while

I used to love an animal of habit
a woman, a man, a child
myself

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Poetry

After the crash

I like the way I'm restored
in a new window
firefoxed by the hounds

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Poetry

alenaciC

Beyond 6 ft., footless
Ashed, coughlingly into the asmathic abyss
Dieseled away

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Poetry

allow

Allow me to love you
my distant stranger
aside from mundane and

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Poetry

Allow me to introduce myself

Allow me to introduce myself: ↨
I am the unknown, cognitive to no one
including myself

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Poetry

am

It’s six
am
The morning is about to unravel the day

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Poetry

Among it

Glancing, life was a burial procession
I melted with the crowd toward the grave
A yell from ground raped my toes

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Essays

Anger fuse

Was an encounter I never thought I'd intersect voluntarily. And if I did, I would just let it go by like a shot of tequila. Undrunk. I am a simple...

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Poetry

As I go

Concrete roads, cemented
Going only
Left or right North and south

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Poetry

At dawn

I’m late at dawn
Among the rotten dew
Near the slaughtered love, in sight

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Poetry

At dawn, again

Bayonets smothered by dew
Sighs coagulated by vagrant veins
hope for the sunshine, unseen

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Poetry

At last

i unspoke
unsang and undreamed
i

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Essays

Atlas, tea, the mob.

Two years ago, sitting at my kitchen table and talking with a friend while sipping a cup of coffee and inhaling with nonchalance the all-damaging tobacco smoke, the idea of...

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Essays

Aware

There's noting I could possibly tell you that you don't already know. There's nothing one can dream of that we didn't already grasp on to. So, what is left? Well,...

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Poetry

Been there, walked that

Laden with shoes
His room was
All worn

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Poetry

Before

I love life at the funeral
In the morning, when the deceased is unknown, warm and still hated
When the tax man is about to start his rounds, ruthless and docile

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