(c) 2011 by Oana For years now my unborn son has followed me I don’t need to see him I know he is there He just shows up Been trying to explain to myself and to him certain things He never wants to listen He covers his ears He ignores me He follows me in the most unexpected places Hugging my pillows, hiding behind me when I go on dates Dismissin
© 2012 by Oana Some people are to the writers’ community what Jehovah’s Witnesses are to our neighborhoods. They want you to know more about them and they want to be your friends. You don’t. They want you to hear the good news. You don’t. They think their message is important to you. It is not. I have no idea who their “marketing guru” is, but floo
To Benny Special thanks to E. Joyce Moore whose help with starting this project was priceless. Special thanks to Corey A. Burkes for inspiration, support and permission to use his work. Special thanks to my friends for trusting me and sharing their pain with me. (c) 2012 by Oana The Black Man’s Body It started with a picture. Actually, it was m
Excerpt from the upcoming Romanian Rhapsody © 2011 by Oana. This is a book about my sister and me growing up in the midst of oppression and censorship. Freedom Bucharest, 1979 I was older, and my presence was probably easier to tolerate than that of my sister. My father would sometimes take me to his office with him, which was also a way of se
Softly your hands move over my body Softly your thoughts move over my soul Harshly and mercilessly your body crushes the physical Me Harshly and mercilessly your thoughts crush the immaterial Me There is blood. And also lots of pleasure The more blood, the more and deeper the pleasure The more brutality, the more and deeper the realness The more te
