The poetry of Eugeniusz Tkaczyszyn-Dycki (b. 1962) raises new questions about what a poem is, and how a poet’s life relates to what he writes. Dycki (Dits-kee), as he is known, fills his poems with shards and shrapnel from his own life. His verse seems to be about everything and nothing at the same time. Each individual poem contains echoes of every other poem he’s written, and of fragments from his own life; yet at the same time each one manages in some impalpable way to be an organic whole. Dycki’s poetry is saturated with death, sickness, ambivalent and ambiguous sexuality, and a permanent identity crisis (though he chose Polish as his literary language, Dycki is from the remote southeastern part of Poland and his family is both Polish and Ukrainian). Above all, one has the sense that through all of Dycki’s nine books of poetry to date, he is in a significant sense writing and re-writing one and the same poem. In a phrase from another poem of his, he has chosen ‘poetry as a place on earth’, yet it is a vast place in which he is constantly in motion.
– from Bill Johnston’s introduction in MPT 3/10 The Big Green Issue