Na przecięciu arterii

Krzysztof Siwczyk’s latest book, Bloodline Crossings, can best be characterised as a hybrid work, of poetry and prose, in which the author employs language rich in metaphor, stock phrases and idioms to dismantle – to riff on something he said in a recent interview – life’s many illusions. Siwczyk’s own milestones, including a Silesian childhood (his as well as his parents’), marriage, relatives’ passing and the birth of his daughter are both celebrated and scrutinised with surgical precision.

In some of his early poetry, Siwczyk made deft use of the long line, testing its load-bearing limits while piling on images and various, sometimes discordant, tonalities, and we see something similar at work here, but with one key difference: the language of these untitled pieces – prose poems? flash fiction? – seems more rhythmical and thus more engrossing. Instead of being kept at arm’s length, we partake in the author’s peregrinations across the spectrum of life and death. Given Siwczyk’s thematic focus, the journey has no clear destination. Rather, its purpose lies in crossing, crisscrossing, doubling back and, yes, in getting lost along the way. Come to think of it, isn’t that the purpose and reward of all great art?