Wolves of the marshes
(Translation of a shadorma written in French, see here)
April 22, 2016

Turn me up
I am upside down
Delicate
Crepe Georgette
A fabric of clairvoyance
Woven without lies
Eat me so
I like golden pill
Decorate
Universe
I colour in greyish-green
Meadows illusions
Digest me
I am in entrails
Discovery
Reading Braille
Words for extra-sensitives
Open book in heart
Exude me
I sweat from your pores
Winter’s guts
Dream of spring
My mouth formulates your verse
Two hearts’ downward slopes
Collect me
From these bloody pools
Uncovered
Emptied bare
Three little rounds and they run
Wolves of the marshes
Reading of the poem:

Not Human – Javier Navarrete
Fireflies in the garden – Javier Navarrete
Long long time ago – Javier Navarrete