Tuesday, January 18, 2011

Rapid Heart Rate, Headache, Weakness

defenestration of angels (1) No. 12 Editorial

EC Andersen La Colle s / Wolf (06). Photo Carl Cabe-Maury
Christian Andersen Erwin, writer and poet French-speaking Belgian, Danish-born father, André Maurits Flemish and Belgian mother, Yvonne Marie Dhuygelaere was born in 1944 and lives in Charleroi. With the publication of his first collections, it has been noticed by Louis Dubost (editor and poet), Werner Lambersy and Marcel Moreau . He had nothing but published nothing for 28 years: his next book (a very large sum poetic) is in press and will appear in the coming days.

To read and learn more about it:

" Standard jubilant " of EC Andersen : http://endehors.net/news/la-norme-jubilatoire-par-christian-erwin-andersen-poete-et-voyageur


Blood Earth Fire Account (author) 1976;

Elements for a Sacrifice

(Ed. the blue die - Louis Dubost) 1977
( Price Maurice Gauchez )

Ligatures & clots, mécrits (1982)
(The blue die & ECA) Preface Werner Lambersy

From 1982 to 2003, Andersen completely stop writing to devote himself entirely to his research "Sahara." Some take it for dead. Nothing more is heard of him. In 2003 he reappeared written Address & Small dogs story of the murder. In 2005, he wrote poems for children sad century unspeakable. He also wrote a few tests: Exorcism sand , Evidence , The poetic function , Standard jubilant , I deserted my beans ...

Erwin Christian Andersen or the "hurtful truth of life"

" men communicate their injuries. Paul Celan

Poet peaks, Charles Erwin Andersen? He scraped the deep human with his claws, his words, his teeth ... and its fangs. He speaks as a survivor of utopias sick tomorrow bleeding. Read this off-the-poet standards, pick up his latest book, take time to understand the pain reaching a savage joy, despair, or a semblance of reason remains. The reason? alibi stunning, deafening. So many poets pleasing shape obsolete subtleties of language where all pretenses of a clever mind, but fret warped disfigure poetry in "highlights" anthologies for academic use.

EC Andersen is a poet decimated by the curse of hypocrisy out of sight, by the sacred spells of a society completely dismantled. He climbs facades steep himself poem after poem. We are here in a thousand places small chapels and worldliness. The excess, he does not fear, however, because he knows that love is burning all the monstrous secret passions without which humans would be unable to revolt against the methods of oppression more more degrading imposed. It basically says, what we certainly do not want to hear. It returns, among the front lines of his fights and his love, the wise words of the Bedouin calmly sipping his glass of black tea in the middle of a sandstorm or that of his gypsy friends outside of propriety and respectability agreed. This word plural, sometimes hard, but a consistency almost unbearable, our civilization condemns magnificently stupid of a sovereign silence.
If I dared, about his poems, I speak of "black writing" as opposed to white writing. After thirty years to escape the world of publishing - and these are not proposals that have failed - he returns with "angels defenestration" (The Thieves of Fire , forthcoming in February 2011). Buy this book from a hundred poems that will lead you in circles Dante's life and death, you will be returned, refreshed, too, because he has lived these last years, without complaint, with only the denier that are thrown to the beggar. This is his kingdom.

Most of the poems he sent to me, are "events" since Christian works in the manner of "damned", never satisfied with the final he writes, and he still recovering even in question. His entire existence has been fertilized by doubt: the Other, I was playing the staff never allows himself to definitively identify, never tame. I keep in
my archive different versions of most of the poems published here, and I think it would be necessary to confront and to compare them at one time or another to decipher the ritual games which, not without an immense verve jubilant, engaged the poet.
; AC

Tango asses earth

It stirs up there it looks like

in the sky of
ordinarily so empty
prepares a feast

furniture on the floors slip
water soap soft
vie field

it increasingly agitated
I hear cries tears
laughter of children playing
colors blaze

past few clouds take their

legs to their necks
first migrants arrive

with great blows of wings
godillent in the heavy air

a flight of geese joined the noisy

is spring

what enfant terrible
heaven Will it deliver

what to say to the man who wants to dance

and demands his share of dreams

this man harassed
stitched wounds and scars
eyes filled with horror
refuse does one dance

arms fists
threatening sky
invaded the temple
first steps sketched

O gods
jigs and stuffed
that begin the track
drunken peasants and convicts

sardanes tinkling and sparkling light

lively vine and

blessed a thousand times you're cruel bands
dripping brass
and fury

executioners trusty minions of the mob
shabby preened
the bench awaits

our dancing tangos and lewd
javas Obscene

and goddesses of the drives you
and hands that wander
friction sex sex

belly to belly open wide the doors of Musette

we want to dance a jig around

jitter sources along rivers
jitter always
foot waterfalls dance

vibrate as light vibrates

pitch like pitching
tremble hussars
pale arm of madness that our men

piss the stars and

women standing in their party favors

we dance


My life is an equation

My life is an equation without unknown

a mathematical monstrosity


all things considered
it would have been better that I do not know

I thought
as all lives

she had a beginning and
have an end

but now
I start doubting
and it puts everything in question

I thought there was an unknown
and there has

not my life is an abomination
a train of red stars
neck of a theorem black


The sun beyond

You smile
at the same time
on the ridge beyond the sun

he instills his golds in the dew

a canvas garden spider

questioned the oracle exults

it is bright in his finery Aragn

the breadcrumb
clinging to his leg
suits him perfectly

truth it is not pending

now he delights
and prophesy

c ' Spring is
the mole in his gallery
gives birth to a new moon is red

after autumn and winter

summer comes on top of the tree trembles
day tomorrow



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