My Voice Was A Fan Of Feathers

On the morning of Thursday October 12th, we lost one of the most amazing human beings I know. He was my best friend for 20 years, my platonic hubby almost as long, and, perhaps most importantly to me, an amazing step-dad to my son. I cannot provide more details until a complete medical examination has been done, however, the preliminary diagnosis is heart failure.

Despite the fact he was a recluse in recent years, Oz was a powerhouse on the stage, and inspired a whole generation of slam poets. He was a brilliant writer and an amazing, generous friend to so very many. I do not understand a world without him. He will be deeply, deeply missed.

Some folks will be helping to organize a memorial that Oz would absolutely hate and probably give them shit for, but grieving is for the living.

His final complete work, a fantasy novel titled Eight God Engine, will be available soon on Amazon.

Omoizele was the primary breadwinner in our household, and because his death was so unexpected, we're in a tight spot right now trying to cover final arrangements and some immediate living expenses without his income. If you can pitch in, even a little, it would mean the world to us. And if you can't, sharing this with others who knew and loved Oz would be just as appreciated.

Thanks for being there for us during this tough time.