Sebastijan Dulud je rođen 1976. godine u Montrealu, u Kanadi. Od 2007. godine objavljuje poeziju u raznim časopisima i umetničkim knjigama. Autor je “Chambres” (2013), knjige sastavljene od pesama i fotografija sa nekih od njegovih umetničkih performansa, kao i “Ouvert l’hiver” (2015), zbirke ultra-kratkih zimskih pesama. Takođe je 2013. objavio esej o estetici tipografije u poeziji 1950-ih godina.
Razvio je veliko iskustvo u javnom čitanju poezije; njegova čitanja uključuju i veoma zahtevno lično angažovanje, čime stvara jedinstveni oblik izvođačke poezije koja postaje i intimna koliko je i nasilna. Imao je priliku da nastupa na raznim događanjima u Kanadi, kao i Francuskoj i Belgiji. 2015. godine je dobio Nagradu publike na Internacionalnom festival poezije Trois-Rivières u Kanadi.
Chambres - Sobe, Ouvert l’hiver - Otvori ili otvorena zima, Trois-Rivières- Tri reke
Sébastien Dulude was born in Montreal, Canada, in 1976 and has been publishing poetry since 2007 in various magazines and artists books. He is the author of chambres (2013), a book comprised of poems and photographs of some of his art performances, and more recently ouvert l’hiver (2015), a chapbook of 60 ultra-short winter poems. He has also published an essay (2013) on the aesthetics of typography in 1950’s poetry.
He has developed a vast experience in public poetry reading; noticeably, some of his readings incorporate demanding actions of his own, blending in a unique form of performance poetry that becomes as intimate as it is violent. He has had the opportunity of performing in many events in Canada, as well as in France and Belgium. He’s been awarded the 2015 People’s Prize from the International Poetry Festival of Trois-Rivieres, Canada.
1. Ex communion
I did attempt to rival you in whiteness
I dried my umbilicus and put softener in my Scotch
I climbed the rungs of your clan one by one like a mouse Golgotha
I showed up with fresh breath before the résumé of your beliefs
I made a good impression at the mass of your timid manners
I raked in the jeers of the original youth you lent me
I even confessed my destitute proclivities while wetting just my lips on the wine prescribed
and I left you as abruptly as I could
one Sunday too many
amid the hypocritical opulence
of a feast of crusts
1b. Hello my name is
like a distinguished title
a token of honour
an authority capable of acknowledging the imperative of domestic ultimatums
and inscribing the anonymous dealer
under the sign of constant adversity
face to face with it
1c. Prize list
there will always be the truth of what was
twinned to the fulguration of the present
and in all the accumulated trials and errors
prize list of injuries that belong only to each and everyone
I am the legitimate elder of all the new moments
I wash my hands of our apparent defeat