Born in 1980 in USA, Richard T Scott is working between New York and Paris. Renowned painter of figurative art, he is the most faithful alumnus of Odd Nerdrum, great Norwegian painter. He kept the house of his master during two years in Maison Laffitte (FRANCE). Richard T Scott is also the best friend of Adam Miller. The main goal of the artist is to explore the depth of the human soul.
Michael O’Keefe is likely best known for his roles on Caddyshack (Danny Noonan) and Roseanne (Fred). As an actor he was also Oscar nominated for Best Supporting Actor in The Great Santini, and appeared opposite George Clooney in Michael Clayton. A man of many talents he has also appeared on Broadway and in countless television shows such as M*A*S*H, The Waltons, The West Wing, Criminal Minds, and Law & Order to name a few. He was recently signed on to join the cast of Showtime’s Homeland. O’Keefe holds a MFA in Creative Writing from Bennington College. His latest offering, Swimming From Under My Father is available now and he is currently working on a series of sonnets, which offer up his thoughts on life in general for his son.
What were you like as a child? What are your most fond memories from that time?
Frankly…
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Michael Carroll has been a Peace Corps volunteer, a waiter, a janitor, a writer’s assistant and a college instructor. His work has appeared in Boulevard, Ontario Review, Southwest Review, The Yale Review, Open City, and Animal Shelter, as well as in such anthologies as The New Penguin Book of Gay Short Stories (edited by David Leavitt and Mark Mitchell). He collaborated with Edmund White on the suspense story Excavation for Joyce Carol Oates’ New Jersey Noir. His interviews with Ann Beattie and Wells Tower were included in the recently revamped Chattahoochee Review, where his first story was published, and where he is New York Editor. His first collection, Little Reef and Other Stories, is published by the University of Wisconsin Press.
What was it like growing up in northern Florida? What were you like as a child?
The first story in Little Reef is kind of…
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My revolver
So easy to get
Cocked in fist
On the way to the grave
Wide open for morning
Loaded and ready
Bullets to blast
My brains to the clay
Of Mother Nature’s womb
†
Skull full of stars
People that cross
Lost in a garden
Of slab and dirt
Hands from graves
Reach out to shake
Me up so late
Embalmed hands
Amidst the wilt
†
How I love the Dead
Putting down roots
Echoing whispers
By the time you get it together
You start to fall apart . . .
Skeletal, you know
A jaw drops
Moss will grow
With unknown approach
†
Living to die, dying to live
Tombstones scream
Or winds grow shrill
Among final faces
Of resting places
My constant family
Who embraces chill
Beneath my feet
Tripping
†
Naked
Among the Dead
To a bed
Where I sit
Smoking a joint
On that tomb
Sculpture of stone
Near a baby’s
Grave
†
A seedling
Alone
How I yearn
To hold you
Above
Your crumbling
New name
Eroded
Not even a weed
†
So I sing
A lullaby
And reach out
To cradle you
In my arms
With your rattle
Of bones
Watching
Birds Fall
†
Birds fall
From the trees
Dying
From disease
Wondering
Why
Death is
The rest of
Your life
†
Some call me a necrophiliac
Who bones the boneyard
Others, a ghoul
Who haunts the Dead
Whatever tickles their tulips
Licking dew drops of lust . . .
Did you know divorce kills?
Divorce kills children
For the rest of their lives
†
Under-aged children
Kicking the emptiness
Of a beer can
Can no longer feel
Superior over anything
Nothing but luck
Before granite claims
Years of avoidance
In unfulfilled hearts
†
Finding a family
Like me
In the dead of night
To dance
Headlit
In moonlight
Celebrating
Every vertebra
Of our spines
†
Bone
Is white dust
And soul lost
In dispersing
Atoms
Ready to be
Held
In a box
Planted
†
To remain
Where
I can always
Be found
Underground
Knowing dark
Caresses
My mind
Listening
Pete Suicide
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