These excerpts form part of larger works, including Tale Without Tail and other ongoing texts.
Lustro podaje mnie bez wahania.
Rysy się zgadzają.
Gesty są na miejscu.
Rozpoznanie przebiega bez problemów.
To ja.
Powinnam poczuć ulgę.
Nie czuję.
Wygląda to raczej tak,
jakby ktoś przygotował wersję,
która będzie łatwiejsza w użyciu.
Stoję obok
i próbuję przypomnieć sobie,
kiedy wyraziłam zgodę.
— KBM "Proporcje"Żółty słupek oznacza koniec spaceru.
Nie ja go wybrałam. Wybrał go pies.
Często w tym miejscu nagle słabnie jej wola współpracy.
Siada. Patrzy. Czeka, aż się złamię.
Dziś bunt nastąpił wcześniej.
W połowie drogi na pagórek.
Stanęła. Potem odwróciła się tyłem.
Wyraźny komunikat.
Tłumaczyłam, groziłam, negocjowałam.
Bez skutku.
Spojrzała mi w oczy.
Nie było w nich ani triumfu, ani urazy.
Pogłaskałam ją po łbie.
I nagle przestałam być taka pewna,
kto kogo prowadzi na spacer.
— KBM "Wystarczy zejść z drogi"Proporcje
Proporcje is a two-part work made of brief, precise texts that explore alignment — between body and perception, voice and silence, light and judgment.
The first part stays close to lived moments. The second moves toward quieter adjustments, where proportion is not explained but felt — as pressure, absence, or shift.
The book does not argue. It allows imbalance to appear and settle.
The language is spare. There is no manifesto. Meaning emerges through subtraction.
What remains is attention to balance — not as harmony, but as something that must be continually recalibrated.
Originally written in Polish/English.
Wystarczy zejść z drogi
Wystarczy zejść z drogi gathers short prose pieces that observe ordinary scenes at the moment they shift. A school office, a sidewalk, a kitchen, a gate in the wind — each reveals a quiet change in perception or control.
The book does not dramatize conflict. It watches it. Roles seem stable until a gesture or a pause unsettles them. Irony remains understated. Judgment is withheld.
The texts are brief and precise. They depend on placement rather than climax — on what is said and what is left unsaid.
The title suggests movement, but often only a small step is needed. Through restraint, the book shows how authority moves quietly in daily life — and how easily it changes hands.
Originally written in Polish/English.
Claire called Suzie for dinner.
The house stayed quiet.
She found her by the window, sitting still.
Claire said her name again.
Suzie did not turn.
When Claire moved her hand into Suzie’s line of sight,
Suzie followed it without confusion.
The change asked for closer positioning.
— KBM Tale Without Tail "Gdyby ktoś zapytał mnie o szczęście,
powiedziałabym:
dom.
Ciepły.
Własny.
Bezpieczny.
Chciałabym, żeby każdy miał takie miejsce.
Ale znam nas.
Po czasie zaczęłoby uwierać.
— KBM "AMERICAN FLAMING-O"Tale Without Tail
Tale Without Tail follows a family over time, observing how roles take shape and slowly change. The story unfolds in short, self-contained chapters, each centered on a gesture, a rule, or a position within the home.
The dog at the center is not a symbol of loyalty; she holds a place. She stands guard, withdraws, returns. The family adjusts around her — through birth, illness, aging, and loss. The book avoids sentiment and explanation. Change appears physically: in movements that stop, in sounds that fade, in routines that grow smaller.
The tone remains steady. Events are not heightened. What remains is a study of attachment as structure — how bodies arrange themselves, and what shifts when one can no longer keep its place.
Originally written in English.
American Flaming-o
American Flaming-o gathers short prose pieces that examine contemporary life at close range: conversations, minor negotiations, habits of language, small acts of belief. The tone remains composed. Humor appears not as exaggeration but as adjustment — a slight shift in angle that exposes disproportion.
The texts move between household exchanges, institutional rituals, and public gestures. They rarely escalate. Instead, they pause just before resolution, allowing situations to disclose themselves. What might seem trivial — a hairstyle, a receipt, a medal placed on a table — becomes material for measured scrutiny.
The collection does not mock. It observes. Its irony is dry, almost documentary. Through controlled understatement, it registers the distance between intention and outcome, dignity and performance, desire and scale. The effect is cumulative: a portrait of modern seriousness viewed through a steady, unhurried lens.
Originally written in Polish/English.