Farmer suicides

Lest thirst should seek water we give much to future eyes.Water will flow in mud dams the upstream flows drowned by speeches,on long – routed roads fleshed with rain mud that smells like new monsoon coming from south-west hills.

We wear our palms on board and lotuses smell fresh mud.This monsoon is treacherous on cotton in the cracked land.Minds go cracked like the land and bodies disappear in fans.

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