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Michael O'Keefe
At Large, USA
Not what I appear to be nor am I otherwise.
Recent Activity
As always, Winch hits the mark. Seamus Heaney once said, "We're all just working with what Kavanagh started." Merry Christmas poetry lovers. Night, night. M. O'K.
Thanks, Jerry. Sadly, it's the way of the business for most actors these days. But that's another story.
Thanks, Saul. And give your daughters my best wishes.
That's right, Terence. Not to mention the fee I recieve from BAP for each comment made. Keep 'em coming. Or you can contribute directly to the O'Keefe Relief Fund. Call 1-800-SUMMERHOMEINTHEHAMPTONS for more info on my dire state.
Last night I was fortunate enough to see a production of an adaptation of John Fowles’ novel, The Collector at the Ruskin Theater Group in Santa Monica, CA. (In the interest of full disclosure I should note that the director, Edward Edwards and I have been friends for over thirty-five years.) The two young actors in the show, Jaimi Page and Dane Zinter do wonderful things conveying the horrifying experience a beautiful young woman endures after being kidnapped by a deranged lottery winner who is obsessed with her. As I said to Eddie afterwards, “Even though I’ve been acting for... Continue reading
Posted Jan 30, 2010 at The Best American Poetry
I’m on a Pegasus descending from the heavens to earth where a friend is waiting by a fire. He had advised me telepathically to land the horse. As I do, it’s breathing words out its nose. Pegasus and I descend rapidly but gracefully to earth at a steep angle towards my friend. We land and are now facing the opposite direction of our descent as Pegasus breathes more words out its nose. I had the above dream about a month ago. Upon relating it to my shrink, a Jungian, his eyes grew wide and he replied, “You were riding Pegasus.... Continue reading
Posted Jan 29, 2010 at The Best American Poetry
Home After Three Months Away by Robert Lowell Gone now the baby's nurse, a lioness who ruled the roost and made the Mother cry. She used to tie gobbets of porkrind in bowknots of gauze-- three months they hung like soggy toast on our eight foot magnolia tree, and helped the English sparrows weather a Boston winter. Three months, three months! Is Richard now himself again? Dimpled with exaltation, my daughter holds her levee in the tub. Our noses rub, each of us pats a stringy lock of hair-- they tell me nothing's gone. Though I am forty-one, not forty... Continue reading
Posted Jan 28, 2010 at The Best American Poetry
I'm not surprised to hear about Pat's connection with David's mom regarding her survivor story. He's gracious with each and every person who approaches him. And to answer your question about how actors deal with the inevitable loss of daily contact with our colleagues when we return to our daily lives, we stay in touch with those we can and miss those we no longer see daily. But when we reunite it's like it was and we love each other for it.
On February 18, 2010 I am flying to Savannah, GA and driving an hour north to Beaufort, SC for the Beaufort International Film Festival. Pat Conroy, novelist and author of The Prince of Tides and The Great Santini, among many others, will receive the Excellence in Writing Award and Blythe Danner, the actress who appeared in both films of those novels, will receive the Excellence in Acting Award. I have the honor of presenting Blythe’s award. Beaufort was the local for both films and little about the town has changed in the thirty years that have passed since we made... Continue reading
Posted Jan 27, 2010 at The Best American Poetry
Thanks for your comment, Ed. If you want to e-mail me about model/interventions I am: Yrs, M. O'K.
In May of 2009 my ten-year old friend Seamus Morrison was diagnosed with a medulla blastoma on his cerebellum. They are a poorly differentiated malignant neoplasm composed of tightly packed cells of spongioblastic and neuroblastic lineage. Or to put it another way: they are not good. To be clear, I’m really a friend of Seamus’ father James Morrison. An actor and yogi, neither of which are terms I toss around lightly, James called me after Seamus’ diagnosis and into the world of pain, surgery, chemo and prayer we went. Seamus had complained of blurry vision, which resulted in a visit... Continue reading
Posted Jan 26, 2010 at The Best American Poetry
Hi Eric: The poem is from Jason's last chapbook called, Arrow Breaking Apart from Arrowsmith Books.
Thanks, Laura. Any friend of Jason's is a friend of mine. M. O'K.
photo by Bill Hayward Jason Shinder (left) died on April 25, 2008 after a prolonged period of living with cancer and leukemia. Those of us who knew him valued his humor, buoyancy and dedication to poetry. He edited several anthologies and I had the privilege of working on his last, The Poem I Turn To, a collection of favorite poems from people in show business. Philip Seymour Hoffman, Mary Louise Parker and a slew of others contributed two poems, commentary and then read the poems onto a CD. What impressed me most about Jason was his ability to live the... Continue reading
Posted Jan 25, 2010 at The Best American Poetry
That bit is genius. Thanks, M. O'K.
Amy, you are clearly a woman of discerning taste. Thanks, M. O'K.
In a narcissistic slight of hand actor Michael O’Keefe interviews himself about his poems, Christmas and other matters significant to him and him alone. Q.: Michael, nice to have you here. A.: Pleasure to be had and here. Q.: You’ve published a book of poems recently. A.: You’re quite right about that. Q.: But enough about poetry tell me about the meaning of life. A.: Hey, let’s get back to poetry, Interlocutor. Unemployed actors know very little about the meaning of life. They can’t even hold a job in the real world. That’s why they became actors in the first... Continue reading
Posted Dec 24, 2009 at The Best American Poetry
For some A Christmas Carol, (Alistair Sim’s version please) is the definitive Christmas film. For others It’s A Wonderful Life holds the honor of best film to watch during the holidays. “Marry Christmas Bedford Falls! Marry Christmas, Mr. Potter!” James Stewart bellows returning from a parallel, yet horrible, reality to face charges for bank fraud in “the real world,” whatever the hell that is. Both have the Christmas spirit for sure. But for me the films to watch at Christmas all star Barbara Stanwyck. First there is the not very well known Remember the Night (left). Fred MacMurray and Stanwyck... Continue reading
Posted Dec 21, 2009 at The Best American Poetry
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Dec 20, 2009