For "The Wires" (Tram, 1978) they wrote:

"... One of the best books of 1978, by a poet who, if not struck by Zeus' thunderbolts, or trapped by the stern demands of everyday life, will undoubtedly have a certain and broad poetic future. Because with his very first collection, he achieves this so difficult-to-answer (and always with conquered maturity): to unite all the indeterminate, vague, and mobile aspects of contemporary poetry with solid essences, like cornerstones or small miracles of purity and emotional completeness. Sotiris Kakisis does not simply want to write. He has something to say. The difference is significant..."

Tasos Livaditis, "I Avgi", 1979

"... A poetic individual, but one who also speaks on behalf of certain non-individual human realities, Sotiris Kakisis is the most personal, perhaps, both in terms of poetic sense and depth of sensitivity and writing, compared to many others. His poems, a kind of modern prose songs where we do not hear songs but the whispering voice of an invisible narrator who observes the surrounding world and occasionally sees something significant, hidden from the common eye, are a bouquet of moments from instantaneous scenarios of everyday life, gray, humble, but wounded by grief and loneliness. A contemporary "minor key", genuine and original, Sotiris Kakisis. His "The Wires" is an "opening" and a substantial realization..."

Andreas Karandonis, "Nea Estia", 1980

For "The Device of the Dead Man" (Akmon, 1981) they wrote:

"... Kakisis continues to enrich his already well-designed path with his second book (after "The Wires"). The "sounds" he uses are always oblique. The effort to conquer his "subject" is never frontal, but he seeks to find its Achilles' heel, which is always half-hidden or completely hidden behind a haze, a fog. The scenes that unfold are like viewed through a snow-covered window, leaving the imagination to fill in the details.

Often, this "poetry" resembles a taut rope. You must constantly balance on it. Giving you a sense of anxiety and impending destruction. In general, Kakisis writes, and this is important, as if he is not interested in the result. And he delivers the best result..."

Tasos Livaditis, "I Avgi", 1981

"... Whoever would decide to choose among the abundant cases of new poetry, the strangest and perhaps the most eccentric, would ultimately not be able to resist standing in front of Sotiris Kakisis' two books - "The Wires" and "The Device of the Dead Man" - if he was determined to face the consequences of honesty. These books deserve our attention (which has certainly been troubled by several unsuccessful preferences) solely for what sets them apart from the needs of the average reader and the monotony of official criticism. Because these texts manage to be truly modern not by disregarding scholarship but with something even more selfish: they do not ask us to be kind, but intelligent.

"The Device of the Dead Man" is therefore a book that did not take long to provoke a series of misunderstandings in the limited circle of people who genuinely care about poetry. It was considered snobbish, eccentric, and incomprehensible.

The poetry of "Device" did not seem to be anything but an exaggerated example of prose, which could only by chance reveal the remnants of some melodic whispers. In reality, this is exactly the art of "Device", whose charm seems to be born in darkness, and its value to follow a flow of words that have ceased to be fanciful for the sake of an elderly wisdom or a childish naivety. Poetry here wants to maintain all the virtues of a true aristocrat - so it ceases to show off... Modesty is not a moral virtue (as is the case with the so-called "poor" poetry), it is an aesthetic perception, a kind of sensitivity. What could be more natural then, than a young person who takes advantage of the fact that two centuries of pomp and arrogance and unnecessary luxury have taught us to dislike poetry as if it were an epidemic, in order to trust a new form of text, poor in intentions, but rich in arrogance and grace. Let us abandon for a while the truth of words, so that we can deal with the beauty of ideas, seems to repeat this art that is not as simplistic as it seems. In the kingdom of sensitivity, there is still room for the intelligent..."

Eugenios Aranitsis, "Eleftherotypia", 1982