Thorns are my language.
I announce my existence
with a bleeding touch.
...
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K.Satchidanandan is a cactus lover and is flirting with cactus flowers, going for a camel ride in the desert sands where the dunes keep making and unamaking and the caravans of gipsies going. The desert blooms the petals of his poesy. Against the backdrop of it, he thinks of the thorns and twitches, languages and the different modes of expression.
For the poet, who does not conceal his leftist leanings, even in his poems, what life offers is thorns. His heart, sure, bleeds. For him, to live itself is a challenge.