tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81717073352652682292012-05-30T06:31:10.113+01:00Impronta en las dunas.Blog de poesía y aproximaciones. Todo es posible en el territorio del asombro. Balbuceos de criatura encomillada por infinitos desde su soledad compartida.Andrés Díaz Castro(Andestdi)http://www.blogger.com/profile/01569464024292950877noreply@blogger.comBlogger238125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8171707335265268229.post-21603882935438253432012-05-29T21:25:00.002+01:002012-05-29T21:25:08.783+01:00Los puñales pugnan.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-U6qWOQab3Zk/T8Uv6Zmv_rI/AAAAAAAAAgQ/zErm2CLBs3U/s1600/099.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-U6qWOQab3Zk/T8Uv6Zmv_rI/AAAAAAAAAgQ/zErm2CLBs3U/s320/099.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-size: xx-small;"> Foto realizada por el autor.</span><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><em><strong>Los puñales pugnan</strong></em><br /><br /><strong><em>duelen</em></strong><br /><br /><strong><em>con estocadas verbales</em></strong><br /><br /><strong><em>solo queda</em></strong><br /><br /><strong><em>el vuelo letal</em></strong><br /><br /><strong><em>de un pájaro acosado.</em></strong><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8171707335265268229-2160388293543825343?l=inprontaenlasdunas2.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Andrés Díaz Castro(Andestdi)http://www.blogger.com/profile/01569464024292950877noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8171707335265268229.post-57433540467328524472012-05-20T12:26:00.001+01:002012-05-20T12:26:39.703+01:00Leo a los poetas.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vaYhEUcBpao/T7jUNqqLumI/AAAAAAAAAgE/SiKpcufY0vc/s1600/DSC01460.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vaYhEUcBpao/T7jUNqqLumI/AAAAAAAAAgE/SiKpcufY0vc/s320/DSC01460.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><strong><em><span style="font-size: xx-small;"> Foto hecha con CD.</span></em></strong><br /><br /><strong><em>Leo a los poetas</em></strong><br /><strong><em>mientras Mozart</em></strong><br /><strong><em>hechiza el aire</em></strong><br /><strong><em>y me adormilo</em></strong><br /><strong><em>rodeado de versos</em></strong><br /><strong><em>que danzan</em></strong><br /><strong><em>rasgando velos</em></strong><br /><strong><em>y vuelvo</em></strong><br /><strong><em>lúcido</em></strong><br /><strong><em>a la cúpula del viento</em></strong><br /><strong><em>donde la eternidad susurra</em></strong><br /><strong><em>un nuevo poema.</em></strong><br /><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8171707335265268229-5743354046732852447?l=inprontaenlasdunas2.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Andrés Díaz Castro(Andestdi)http://www.blogger.com/profile/01569464024292950877noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8171707335265268229.post-24270069041271832282012-05-18T17:36:00.001+01:002012-05-18T17:36:29.182+01:00Busca al grito.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ema3C3FgO6g/T7Z4f2-C1YI/AAAAAAAAAf4/_31JsGW2Jpg/s1600/DSC01353.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ema3C3FgO6g/T7Z4f2-C1YI/AAAAAAAAAf4/_31JsGW2Jpg/s320/DSC01353.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><strong><em><span style="font-size: xx-small;"> Foto hecha con CD.</span></em></strong><br /><br /><br /><strong><em>Esta noche</em></strong><br /><strong><em>el silencio</em></strong><br /><strong><em>busca</em></strong><br /><strong><em>al grito</em></strong><br /><strong><em>para fijar</em></strong><br /><strong><em>la intensidad</em></strong><br /><strong><em>de su propio eco</em></strong><br /><strong><em>en la habitación</em></strong><br /><strong><em>de los que se han ido.</em></strong><br /><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8171707335265268229-2427006904127183228?l=inprontaenlasdunas2.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Andrés Díaz Castro(Andestdi)http://www.blogger.com/profile/01569464024292950877noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8171707335265268229.post-87435033859937041282012-05-14T18:36:00.000+01:002012-05-14T18:36:33.803+01:00Inepcia.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iDIcJgV2pbQ/T7FBnaCb_xI/AAAAAAAAAfo/m4HEE4Cn7aE/s1600/olimpo-griego.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="242" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iDIcJgV2pbQ/T7FBnaCb_xI/AAAAAAAAAfo/m4HEE4Cn7aE/s320/olimpo-griego.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><strong><em><span style="font-size: xx-small;"> Imagen de Google.</span></em></strong><br /><br /><strong><em>Mis dioses</em></strong><br /><strong><em>tienen</em></strong><br /><strong><em>una divina inepcia para ser</em></strong><br /><strong><em>y no rebasan</em></strong><br /><strong><em>su cualidad de metáforas</em></strong><br /><strong><em>revolotean por los versos</em></strong><br /><strong><em>a veces como pregunta</em></strong><br /><strong><em>a veces como respuesta</em></strong><br /><strong><em>a veces como bastón espiritual</em></strong><br /><strong><em>cuando pierdo el equilibrio</em></strong><br /><strong><em>tentado por los abismos</em></strong><br /><br /><strong><em>Mi ritual</em></strong><br /><strong><em>es este poema.</em></strong><br /><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8171707335265268229-8743503385993704128?l=inprontaenlasdunas2.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Andrés Díaz Castro(Andestdi)http://www.blogger.com/profile/01569464024292950877noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8171707335265268229.post-37137314340094554492012-05-11T13:53:00.001+01:002012-05-11T13:53:17.639+01:00La baranda del puente.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kZFQX-yLHkE/T60LAz83HwI/AAAAAAAAAec/uEBKaeJrcRU/s1600/016.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kZFQX-yLHkE/T60LAz83HwI/AAAAAAAAAec/uEBKaeJrcRU/s320/016.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><strong><em><span style="font-size: xx-small;"> Foto con CD.</span></em></strong><br /><br /><br /><br /><strong><em>La luna</em></strong><br /><strong><em>arde en los charcos</em></strong><br /><strong><em>y nunca amanece</em></strong><br /><strong><em>los lechos tienen prisa</em></strong><br /><strong><em>por expulsarnos</em></strong><br /><strong><em>al enigma</em></strong><br /><strong><em>donde el insomnio</em></strong><br /><strong><em>posee un sitio ajeno</em></strong><br /><strong><em>en el que apalean</em></strong><br /><strong><em>a los viandantes</em></strong><br /><br /><strong><em>Ceso en mi empeño</em></strong><br /><strong><em>me desplazo</em></strong><br /><strong><em>y caigo</em></strong><br /><strong><em>soy uno más</em></strong><br /><strong><em>en la baranda del puente.</em></strong><br /><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8171707335265268229-3713731434009455449?l=inprontaenlasdunas2.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Andrés Díaz Castro(Andestdi)http://www.blogger.com/profile/01569464024292950877noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8171707335265268229.post-23704260512307340422012-05-07T18:56:00.000+01:002012-05-07T18:56:02.129+01:00Invocación.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-c8L9ARmZcQQ/T6gKlh0jwHI/AAAAAAAAAd8/3K4xJ8wSZXw/s1600/DSC01668.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-c8L9ARmZcQQ/T6gKlh0jwHI/AAAAAAAAAd8/3K4xJ8wSZXw/s320/DSC01668.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ALYUaflkcgU/T6gLHjMwSSI/AAAAAAAAAeE/zRM7N5KkIto/s1600/DSC01660.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ALYUaflkcgU/T6gLHjMwSSI/AAAAAAAAAeE/zRM7N5KkIto/s320/DSC01660.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-29hJjFUrrZ4/T6gLmMIPKXI/AAAAAAAAAeM/YevTZY3yfCw/s1600/DSC01665.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-29hJjFUrrZ4/T6gLmMIPKXI/AAAAAAAAAeM/YevTZY3yfCw/s320/DSC01665.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><strong><em><span style="font-size: xx-small;"> Fotos realizadas con CD.</span></em></strong><br /><br /><strong><em>La ciudad</em></strong><br /><strong><em>tiene un color extraño</em></strong><br /><strong><em>tal vez un sabor en tránsito</em></strong><br /><strong><em>que deriva en un olor sagrado</em></strong><br /><br /><strong><em>Huele a tí</em></strong><br /><strong><em>tiene tu color</em></strong><br /><strong><em>sabe como tus labios</em></strong><br /><br /><strong><em>Estoy haciendo la ciudad</em></strong><br /><strong><em>invocándote.</em></strong><br /><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8171707335265268229-2370426051230734042?l=inprontaenlasdunas2.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Andrés Díaz Castro(Andestdi)http://www.blogger.com/profile/01569464024292950877noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8171707335265268229.post-79153510549886537222012-05-05T20:57:00.001+01:002012-05-05T20:57:33.009+01:00Sin mamá.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8ZrAAB9IIIs/T6WDvL7RlyI/AAAAAAAAAdw/mHH5MWJIE_E/s1600/Foto-0002+(7).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8ZrAAB9IIIs/T6WDvL7RlyI/AAAAAAAAAdw/mHH5MWJIE_E/s320/Foto-0002+(7).jpg" width="320" /></a></div><strong><em><span style="font-size: xx-small;"> Foto realizada con teléfono (Un collar para Mamá)</span></em></strong><br /><br /><strong><em>El aleteo breve</em></strong><br /><strong><em>de una brújula</em></strong><br /><strong><em>en el seno de la desorientación</em></strong><br /><strong><em>el desarraigo del control</em></strong><br /><strong><em>gritando</em></strong><br /><br /><strong><em>El chisporroteo de una vela</em></strong><br /><strong><em>en su agonía</em></strong><br /><strong><em>y otras tantas devastaciones</em></strong><br /><strong><em>en el desastre íntimo</em></strong><br /><em><strong>del humano real</strong></em><br /><em><strong>en disputa con su máscara</strong></em><br /><em><strong>poco antes</strong></em> <em><strong>de las disoluciones</strong></em><br /><strong><em>sin mamá.</em></strong><br /><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8171707335265268229-7915351054988653722?l=inprontaenlasdunas2.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Andrés Díaz Castro(Andestdi)http://www.blogger.com/profile/01569464024292950877noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8171707335265268229.post-76689517707500536642012-05-03T18:02:00.001+01:002012-05-03T18:03:20.906+01:00La singularidad.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qhEtDjqqQ8I/T6K5X866p7I/AAAAAAAAAdk/RlBSEuoDg34/s1600/Foto-0033+(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qhEtDjqqQ8I/T6K5X866p7I/AAAAAAAAAdk/RlBSEuoDg34/s320/Foto-0033+(2).jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-size: xx-small;"> Foto hecha con CD.</span><br /><br /><strong><em>La noche usurpa</em></strong><br /><strong><em>el lado oblicuo</em></strong><br /><strong><em>de tus esquivas</em></strong><br /><strong><em>y compromete</em></strong><br /><strong><em>la desnudez</em></strong><br /><strong><em>de tus deseos</em></strong><br /><strong><em>con descuidos cómplices</em></strong><br /><br /><strong><em>Y me abrazas</em></strong><br /><strong><em>y arrastras</em></strong><br /><strong><em>a ese lugar</em></strong><br /><strong><em>en el que somos otros</em></strong><br /><strong><em>con una gozosa</em></strong><br /><strong><em>singularidad.</em></strong><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8171707335265268229-7668951770750053664?l=inprontaenlasdunas2.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Andrés Díaz Castro(Andestdi)http://www.blogger.com/profile/01569464024292950877noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8171707335265268229.post-32193831437188450372012-04-25T10:26:00.000+01:002012-04-25T10:26:03.635+01:00Posibilidad de la Utopía.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-l2nRb_bovvY/T5fAL2hCp9I/AAAAAAAAAdY/oQMLdR7oJys/s1600/Foto-0163_e1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-l2nRb_bovvY/T5fAL2hCp9I/AAAAAAAAAdY/oQMLdR7oJys/s320/Foto-0163_e1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><strong><em><span style="font-size: xx-small;"> Foto hecha con teléfono (Fuerteventura)</span></em></strong><br /><br /><br /><strong><em>Ando </em></strong><br /><strong><em>buscando luces </em></strong><br /><strong><em>para despertar un farol</em></strong><br /><br /><strong><em>Traigo </em></strong><br /><strong><em>bolsas de pasos </em></strong><br /><strong><em>para construir un camino</em></strong><br /><br /><strong><em>Sé que hay un planeta distinto que nos incumbe</em></strong><br /><strong><em>cierto lugar perdido debajo del aire que nos anima</em></strong><br /><br /><strong><em>Imagino </em></strong><br /><strong><em>que mi mano hace ofrendas </em></strong><br /><strong><em>al sueño de los perseguidos</em></strong><br /><strong><em>mientras perdono </em></strong><br /><strong><em>a los manipuladores de insomnios</em></strong><br /><br /><strong><em>Nunca me abandonaré en la hierba</em></strong><br /><br /><strong><em>Una luna despojada de crepúsculos</em></strong><br /><strong><em>ignota como en los orígenes</em></strong><br /><strong><em>extenderá su platura desde el Oriente</em></strong><br /><br /><strong><em>El aire</em></strong><br /><strong><em>sin ataduras de banderas</em></strong><br /><strong><em>galopará sobre las ruinas</em></strong><br /><strong><em>sin que el polvo de las promesas</em></strong><br /><strong><em>pueda enceguecer a los que buscan</em></strong><br /><br /><strong><em>Entonces</em></strong><br /><strong><em>solo entonces</em></strong><br /><strong><em>será posible la Utopía.</em></strong><br /><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8171707335265268229-3219383143718845037?l=inprontaenlasdunas2.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Andrés Díaz Castro(Andestdi)http://www.blogger.com/profile/01569464024292950877noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8171707335265268229.post-25766357054801193752012-04-23T09:52:00.000+01:002012-04-23T09:59:08.054+01:00¡Feliz Día del Libro!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OGhDqFH-Q60/T5UU98EAVfI/AAAAAAAAAdQ/H31J7zvlzSk/s1600/DSC01607+(1).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="178" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OGhDqFH-Q60/T5UU98EAVfI/AAAAAAAAAdQ/H31J7zvlzSk/s320/DSC01607+(1).JPG" width="320" /></a></div><strong><em><span style="font-size: xx-small;"> Foto hecha con CD.</span></em></strong><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">El libro es una puerta</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">¡Ábrela!</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">Encontrarás el conjuro</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">que hará nacer</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">los mundos que llevas dentro</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">historias</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">y poemas</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">de tu realidad</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">y tus sueños.</span></strong><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8171707335265268229-2576635705480119375?l=inprontaenlasdunas2.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Andrés Díaz Castro(Andestdi)http://www.blogger.com/profile/01569464024292950877noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8171707335265268229.post-92191343269491837752012-04-18T09:59:00.001+01:002012-04-18T09:59:45.107+01:00Lluvia seca.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9iIr4cb7_s8/T46BPiO3EpI/AAAAAAAAAdI/4VIz8KaZT7w/s1600/DSC01221.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9iIr4cb7_s8/T46BPiO3EpI/AAAAAAAAAdI/4VIz8KaZT7w/s320/DSC01221.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-size: xx-small;"> Foto hecha con CD en Fuerteventura (Pozo Negro)</span><br /><br /><br /><strong><em>Lluvia seca</em></strong><br /><strong><em>y transparente</em></strong><br /><strong><em>con espejismos en sus entrañas</em></strong><br /><em><strong>rememoraciones</strong></em><br /><strong><em>de olvidadas humedades</em></strong><br /><strong><em>en un mundo menguante</em></strong><br /><strong><em>que cruje</em></strong><br /><strong><em>sobre sus espectativas frustradas</em></strong><br /><br /><strong><em>Beso largo</em></strong><br /><strong><em>tibio</em></strong><br /><strong><em>de la pasión del desierto</em></strong><br /><strong><em>calima</em></strong><br /><strong><em> y</em></strong><br /><strong><em> memoria</em></strong><br /><strong><em>para el desterrado.</em></strong><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8171707335265268229-9219134326949183775?l=inprontaenlasdunas2.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Andrés Díaz Castro(Andestdi)http://www.blogger.com/profile/01569464024292950877noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8171707335265268229.post-41898477428981356572012-04-14T10:30:00.000+01:002012-04-14T10:30:45.423+01:00El sueño de los dioses.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-seVjxDtOa0Y/T4lAnUoYb4I/AAAAAAAAAdA/aX-fORpWwoA/s1600/Foto-0164.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-seVjxDtOa0Y/T4lAnUoYb4I/AAAAAAAAAdA/aX-fORpWwoA/s320/Foto-0164.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><strong><em><span style="font-size: xx-small;"> Foto realizada con CD.</span></em></strong><br /><br /><br /><strong><em>¡Qué poca cosa la inmortalidad</em></strong><br /><strong><em>si no existiera la muerte!</em></strong><br /><strong><em>Sería grande el afán</em></strong><br /><strong><em>por hilvanar estructuras amnésicas</em></strong><br /><strong><em>edificar dunas </em></strong><br /><strong><em>criar rebaños de relámpagos</em></strong><br /><strong><em>erigir altares a relojes</em></strong><br /><strong><em>de humo y agua</em></strong><br /><br /><strong><em>La palabra FIN</em></strong><br /><strong><em>adquiriría un fulgor mágico</em></strong><br /><strong><em>el raro de lo inalcanzable</em></strong><br /><br /><strong><em>Los sabios</em></strong><br /><strong><em>inutilizarían</em></strong><br /><strong><em>grandes porciones de eternidad</em></strong><br /><strong><em>buscando la esencia de lo que se corrompe</em></strong><br /><br /><strong><em>Nada se podría igualar</em></strong><br /><strong><em>a la adoración de la carne</em></strong><br /><strong><em>esa maravilla que pasa </em></strong><br /><strong><em>y se metamorfosea</em></strong><br /><br /><strong><em>Justo ahí</em></strong><br /><strong><em>unas eternidades más</em></strong><br /><strong><em>o unas eternidades menos</em></strong><br /><strong><em>la asamblea de los inmortales</em></strong><br /><strong><em>decidiría </em></strong><br /><strong><em>amasar con polvo y aliento</em></strong><br /><strong><em>el sueño de los dioses.</em></strong><br /><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8171707335265268229-4189847742898135657?l=inprontaenlasdunas2.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Andrés Díaz Castro(Andestdi)http://www.blogger.com/profile/01569464024292950877noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8171707335265268229.post-52245846441983281462012-04-09T11:00:00.001+01:002012-04-09T11:00:26.428+01:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Uqc3VnPHoLM/T4KydS1rYFI/AAAAAAAAAc4/unBmf-wuMyY/s1600/DSC00007.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Uqc3VnPHoLM/T4KydS1rYFI/AAAAAAAAAc4/unBmf-wuMyY/s320/DSC00007.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><strong><em><span style="font-size: xx-small;"> Foto realizada con CD.</span></em></strong><br /><br /><strong><em>Ella</em></strong><br /><strong><em>ha venido</em></strong><br /><strong><em>desde mi infancia</em></strong><br /><strong><em>para decirme te quiero</em></strong><br /><br /><strong><em>Como se ha quedado ella</em></strong><br /><strong><em>alfilereada</em></strong><br /><strong><em>en ese rincón de mis sueños</em></strong><br /><strong><em>como si el tiempo</em></strong><br /><strong><em>no le perteneciera</em></strong><br /><strong><em>como si yo </em></strong><br /><strong><em>no supiera</em></strong><br /><strong><em>que ha muerto.</em></strong><br /><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8171707335265268229-5224584644198328146?l=inprontaenlasdunas2.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Andrés Díaz Castro(Andestdi)http://www.blogger.com/profile/01569464024292950877noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8171707335265268229.post-25289657246772599482012-04-02T11:55:00.000+01:002012-04-03T10:35:57.967+01:00Ciertos días.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9u6xtvAfBIY/T3mD4mPw_qI/AAAAAAAAAcw/r3PR6cz3bqs/s1600/DSC01193.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9u6xtvAfBIY/T3mD4mPw_qI/AAAAAAAAAcw/r3PR6cz3bqs/s320/DSC01193.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><strong><em><span style="font-size: xx-small;"> Foto hecha con CD: Atardecer en Fuerteventura.</span></em></strong><br /><br /><strong><em>Hay días</em></strong><br /><strong><em>en que el tiempo tiene</em></strong><br /><strong><em>una textura declamada</em></strong><br /><strong><em>un acierto de urgencia</em></strong><br /><strong><em>que me despeja</em></strong><br /><strong><em>y siento </em></strong><br /><strong><em>sed de magnitud</em></strong><br /><strong><em>en un vacío incierto</em></strong><br /><strong><em>en el que renacer</em></strong><br /><strong><em>es algo probable.</em></strong><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8171707335265268229-2528965724677259948?l=inprontaenlasdunas2.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Andrés Díaz Castro(Andestdi)http://www.blogger.com/profile/01569464024292950877noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8171707335265268229.post-26996619891857745222012-03-29T10:22:00.001+01:002012-03-29T10:22:51.935+01:00El fumador de tristezas.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-bbr3hseFQj0/T3QnfODDnvI/AAAAAAAAAco/sBUQZyqF-PQ/s1600/humo-azul-286203.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-bbr3hseFQj0/T3QnfODDnvI/AAAAAAAAAco/sBUQZyqF-PQ/s320/humo-azul-286203.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><strong><em><span style="font-size: xx-small;"> Imagen descargada de Google.</span></em></strong><br /><br /><strong><em>Fumaba</em></strong><br /><strong><em>en los lindes</em></strong><br /><strong><em>de los atardeceres</em></strong><br /><strong><em>con profundas bocanadas</em></strong><br /><strong><em>mientras pájaros perdidos</em></strong><br /><strong><em>buscaban las ramas del sueño</em></strong><br /><br /><strong><em>El humo</em></strong><br /><strong><em>seducía su garganta</em></strong><br /><strong><em>y la mirada</em></strong><br /><strong><em>acariciaba siluetas</em></strong><br /><strong><em>y palpaba ausencias</em></strong><br /><strong><em>en las quimeras del vuelo</em></strong><br /><br /><strong><em>Fumaba tristezas</em></strong><br /><strong><em>y rumiaba versos</em></strong><br /><strong><em>para un día en riesgo.</em></strong><br /><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8171707335265268229-2699661989185774522?l=inprontaenlasdunas2.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Andrés Díaz Castro(Andestdi)http://www.blogger.com/profile/01569464024292950877noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8171707335265268229.post-15447020916713733952012-03-25T21:37:00.002+01:002012-03-25T21:37:21.655+01:00En los ojos del diluvio.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xq-P_EyhWwk/T2-AP0ZC3dI/AAAAAAAAAcg/CFKwA7oP_9I/s1600/Remolino+de+agua.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xq-P_EyhWwk/T2-AP0ZC3dI/AAAAAAAAAcg/CFKwA7oP_9I/s1600/Remolino+de+agua.jpg" /></a></div><strong><em><span style="font-size: xx-small;"> Imagen descargada de Google.</span></em></strong><br /><br /><strong><em>Ver</em></strong><br /><strong><em>en los ojos del diluvio</em></strong><br /><strong><em>la hora exacta</em></strong><br /><strong><em>y escapar</em></strong><br /><strong><em>hacia otros abismos</em></strong><br /><br /><strong><em>Convulsionarse</em></strong><br /><strong><em>y gemir</em></strong><br /><strong><em>en una deliciosa inmolación.</em></strong><br /><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8171707335265268229-1544702091671373395?l=inprontaenlasdunas2.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Andrés Díaz Castro(Andestdi)http://www.blogger.com/profile/01569464024292950877noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8171707335265268229.post-52591246260176811722012-03-23T16:51:00.002Z2012-03-23T16:51:51.282ZSolo tu nombre.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hZyo_xRTyzk/T2yn2owdy_I/AAAAAAAAAcY/mZks7N4BdWg/s1600/Picture+290.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="256" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hZyo_xRTyzk/T2yn2owdy_I/AAAAAAAAAcY/mZks7N4BdWg/s320/Picture+290.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><h3><em><span style="font-size: xx-small;"> Foto con Webcam.</span></em></h3><br /><strong><em>A las cartas no escritas</em></strong><br /><strong><em>espero una respuesta</em></strong><br /><strong><em>en las mentiras del aire</em></strong><br /><strong><em>en los rostros de las nubes</em></strong><br /><strong><em>y las cortinas de polvo</em></strong><br /><br /><strong><em>Una respuesta breve</em></strong><br /><strong><em>solo tu nombre</em></strong><br /><strong><em>y la página en blanco</em></strong><br /><strong><em>para contestarte.</em></strong><br /><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8171707335265268229-5259124626017681172?l=inprontaenlasdunas2.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Andrés Díaz Castro(Andestdi)http://www.blogger.com/profile/01569464024292950877noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8171707335265268229.post-52458919001906192582012-03-07T14:46:00.001Z2012-03-07T14:48:05.955ZDesnudo el ojo.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4XrVPeH02To/T1dxewb3V6I/AAAAAAAAAcI/Tiijq28lrB4/s1600/Foto-0020.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4XrVPeH02To/T1dxewb3V6I/AAAAAAAAAcI/Tiijq28lrB4/s320/Foto-0020.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><strong><em><span style="font-size: xx-small;"> Foto hecha con teléfono (Atardecer, aeropuerto de Fuerteventura)</span></em></strong><br /><br /><strong><em>Desnudo </em></strong><br /><strong><em>el ojo brujo</em></strong><br /><strong><em>la luz tiembla</em></strong><br /><strong><em>sobre el lienzo</em></strong><br /><strong><em>desolada</em></strong><br /><br /><strong><em>Nada que hacer</em></strong><br /><br /><strong><em>Muchas paletas enloquecen</em></strong><br /><strong><em>y se derrumban</em></strong><br /><strong><em>girasoladas</em></strong><br /><strong><em>como el aroma de un camino</em></strong><br /><strong><em>sin caminantes</em></strong><br /><strong><em>las huellas diluidas</em></strong><br /><strong><em>en la transparencia del aire</em></strong><br /><strong><em>que negligente</em></strong><br /><strong><em>desolla</em></strong><br /><strong><em>las amapolas disecadas</em></strong><br /><br /><strong><em>Desnudo el ojo</em></strong><br /><strong><em>el Poeta susurra</em></strong><br /><strong><em>una conspiración contra el Otoño</em></strong><br /><strong><em>y le denuncian</em></strong><br /><strong><em>las lenguas de la borrasca</em></strong><br /><strong><em>gélidas</em></strong><br /><br /><strong><em>Desnudo se lo llevan</em></strong><br /><strong><em>al ojo</em></strong><br /><strong><em>espinas de Luna</em></strong><br /><strong><em>y látigos de sol</em></strong><br /><strong><em>para los sacrificios</em></strong><br /><strong><em>del atardecer rojo.</em></strong><br /><br /><br /><br /><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8171707335265268229-5245891900190619258?l=inprontaenlasdunas2.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Andrés Díaz Castro(Andestdi)http://www.blogger.com/profile/01569464024292950877noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8171707335265268229.post-33117049378352788852012-03-01T11:09:00.000Z2012-03-01T11:09:52.710ZNo volveré a Ítaca.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-I5xwK4gyDOs/T09WcT0QCzI/AAAAAAAAAcA/IAlwoeautHQ/s1600/Ulises+y+las+sirenas.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-I5xwK4gyDOs/T09WcT0QCzI/AAAAAAAAAcA/IAlwoeautHQ/s1600/Ulises+y+las+sirenas.jpg" /></a></div><strong><em><span style="font-size: xx-small;"> Imagen descargada de Google.</span></em></strong><br /><br /><strong><em>No volveré a Ítaca</em></strong><br /><strong><em>nunca</em></strong><br /><strong><em>me he enamorado del mar</em></strong><br /><strong><em>y sus sirenas cantoras</em></strong><br /><strong><em>que tejen</em></strong><br /><strong><em>y destejen</em></strong><br /><strong><em>su canto</em></strong><br /><strong><em>para el que sabe escuchar.</em></strong><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8171707335265268229-3311704937835278885?l=inprontaenlasdunas2.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Andrés Díaz Castro(Andestdi)http://www.blogger.com/profile/01569464024292950877noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8171707335265268229.post-62636988228355058362012-02-24T18:57:00.000Z2012-02-24T18:57:07.351ZA un corazón a pie.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1JZpgIhgmVw/T0fZrm7yY5I/AAAAAAAAAb4/KU95eSgcJpI/s1600/CesarVallejo+2..jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1JZpgIhgmVw/T0fZrm7yY5I/AAAAAAAAAb4/KU95eSgcJpI/s320/CesarVallejo+2..jpg" width="249" /></a></div><span style="font-size: xx-small;"> César Vallejo, imagen descargada de Google.</span><br /><br /><br /><strong><em>César</em></strong><br /><strong><em>iba a pie tu corazón</em></strong><br /><strong><em>por esos caminos curvos</em></strong><br /><strong><em>que bordean cementerios</em></strong><br /><strong><em>y vísperas</em></strong><br /><strong><em>el aire era quieto</em></strong><br /><strong><em>y la tristeza se derramaba</em></strong><br /><strong><em>en cerros de lejanías laceradas</em></strong><br /><strong><em>caminaba con tu paciencia de madera</em></strong><br /><strong><em>apolillada</em></strong><br /><strong><em>desterrado</em></strong><br /><br /><strong><em>Sin saber cuando</em></strong><br /><strong><em>ni como</em></strong><br /><strong><em>los regresos</em></strong><br /><strong><em>cabalgando el fantasma</em></strong><br /><strong><em>de un caballo negro</em></strong><br /><strong><em>que decretaba en su galope</em></strong><br /><strong><em>el polvo de la nostalgia</em></strong><br /><strong><em>y el herrumbre de golpes</em></strong><br /><strong><em>muy fuertes</em></strong><br /><strong><em>huyendo de París</em></strong><br /><strong><em>volviendo</em></strong><br /><strong><em>quién sabe</em></strong><br /><strong><em>y llamas en la vieja casa</em></strong><br /><strong><em>y nadie responde</em></strong><br /><strong><em>las víctimas de sucesivos agostos</em></strong><br /><strong><em>no responden</em></strong><br /><strong><em>todo está muy bien</em></strong><br /><strong><em>dice el caballo</em></strong><br /><strong><em>gotean ausencias los aleros</em></strong><br /><strong><em>todo está muy bien</em></strong><br /><strong><em>y golpea el polvo</em></strong><br /><strong><em>con sus memoriosos cascos</em></strong><br /><strong><em>todos duermen</em></strong><br /><strong><em>también tu corazón cansado</em></strong><br /><br /><strong><em>Nació tu eternidad y estamos velándola.</em></strong><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8171707335265268229-6263698822835505836?l=inprontaenlasdunas2.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Andrés Díaz Castro(Andestdi)http://www.blogger.com/profile/01569464024292950877noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8171707335265268229.post-21836377252371390042012-02-15T13:45:00.001Z2012-02-15T13:49:44.810ZTodos los días.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_mc2aybqTnw/Tzu0l5s1sGI/AAAAAAAAAbw/EhEpq4DNo7o/s1600/Foto-0015+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_mc2aybqTnw/Tzu0l5s1sGI/AAAAAAAAAbw/EhEpq4DNo7o/s320/Foto-0015+%25282%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><strong><em><span style="font-size: xx-small;"> Foto con teléfono (Amanecer enel aeropuerto</span></em></strong><strong><em><span style="font-size: xx-small;"> de Fuerteventura)</span></em></strong><br /><br /><strong><em><span style="font-size: large;">Todos los días</span></em></strong><br /><strong><em><span style="font-size: large;">hay</span></em></strong><br /><strong><em><span style="font-size: large;">una inmensa cola de cristos</span></em></strong><br /><strong><em><span style="font-size: large;">ante la Cruz</span></em></strong><br /><strong><em><span style="font-size: large;">soñando</span></em></strong><br /><strong><em><span style="font-size: large;">con trascender</span></em></strong><br /><br /><strong><em><span style="font-size: large;">Pero solo les crucifican.</span></em></strong><br /><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><strong><em></em></strong></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8171707335265268229-2183637725237139004?l=inprontaenlasdunas2.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Andrés Díaz Castro(Andestdi)http://www.blogger.com/profile/01569464024292950877noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8171707335265268229.post-69003426625569899882012-02-13T10:21:00.000Z2012-02-13T10:21:52.305ZIncomprensiones.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TnrgCyxDveI/Tzjh3djRxSI/AAAAAAAAAbo/DBil0fpbWh4/s1600/DSC01525.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TnrgCyxDveI/Tzjh3djRxSI/AAAAAAAAAbo/DBil0fpbWh4/s320/DSC01525.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><strong><em><span style="font-size: xx-small;"> Foto realizada con CD.</span></em></strong><br /><br /><strong><em>El reloj</em></strong><br /><strong><em>da la cantidad exacta del vacío</em></strong><br /><strong><em>espuma de una revelación que nadie escucha</em></strong><br /><br /><strong><em>A veces los perros ladran</em></strong><br /><strong><em>escépticos</em></strong><br /><strong><em>y sus ladridos son mordidas</em></strong><br /><strong><em>a una soledad en apuros</em></strong><br /><br /><strong><em>Lo demás son termitas</em></strong><br /><strong><em>que devoran</em></strong><br /><strong><em>el sabor oculto de un minuto</em></strong><br /><br /><strong><em>El tiempo</em></strong><br /><strong><em>y el reloj</em></strong><br /><strong><em>no se hablan.</em></strong><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8171707335265268229-6900342662556989988?l=inprontaenlasdunas2.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Andrés Díaz Castro(Andestdi)http://www.blogger.com/profile/01569464024292950877noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8171707335265268229.post-54294236205041605792012-02-10T13:25:00.000Z2012-02-10T13:25:21.279ZEl yacente.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kFd7cVGeu8E/TzUYSNZ_OYI/AAAAAAAAAbg/ZTb_2-bHG1o/s1600/Picture+289.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="256" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kFd7cVGeu8E/TzUYSNZ_OYI/AAAAAAAAAbg/ZTb_2-bHG1o/s320/Picture+289.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Foto del proceso con Webcam.</span></em></strong></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><strong><em>El yacente</em></strong></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><strong><em>devenido mortal</em></strong></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><strong><em>en las aberraciones</em></strong></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><strong><em>de una invocación</em></strong></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><strong><em>con alucinaciones</em></strong></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><strong><em>inducidas</em></strong></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><strong><em>en un putrefacto</em></strong></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><strong><em>templo del arrabal</em></strong></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><strong><em>El yacente</em></strong></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><strong><em>se eleva</em></strong></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><strong><em>sin alas</em></strong></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><strong><em>sin viento</em></strong></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><strong><em>entre las moscas</em></strong></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><strong><em>y el hedor</em></strong></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><strong><em>yace el que invoca</em></strong></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><strong><em>y es como un dios</em></strong></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><strong><em>de un olvidado panteón.</em></strong></div><strong><em><span style="font-size: xx-small;"></span></em></strong><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8171707335265268229-5429423620504160579?l=inprontaenlasdunas2.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Andrés Díaz Castro(Andestdi)http://www.blogger.com/profile/01569464024292950877noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8171707335265268229.post-27588196933424676232012-02-01T19:39:00.000Z2012-02-01T19:39:00.324ZQuizá por eso.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JMOhev_Nqs0/TymTkulhP5I/AAAAAAAAAbY/1OBcMjs62T8/s1600/Picture+288.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="256" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JMOhev_Nqs0/TymTkulhP5I/AAAAAAAAAbY/1OBcMjs62T8/s320/Picture+288.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><strong><em><span style="font-size: xx-small;"> Foto realizada con la Webcam.</span></em></strong><br /><br /><br /><strong><em>Hoy no debería escribir</em></strong><br /><strong><em>tampoco ayer</em></strong><br /><strong><em>quizá no es aconsejable mañana</em></strong><br /><br /><strong><em>Tal vez</em></strong><br /><strong><em>de un modo simple</em></strong><br /><strong><em>no debería escribir</em></strong><br /><br /><strong><em>Hundirme en un mutismo que grita</em></strong><br /><strong><em>y alistar mis rudimentarias armas</em></strong><br /><br /><strong><em>Uno de estos amaneceres</em></strong><br /><strong><em>comienza la batalla</em></strong><br /><br /><strong><em>Quizá por eso debería escribir</em></strong><br /><strong><em>ayer</em></strong><br /><strong><em>hoy</em></strong><br /><strong><em>y mañana.</em></strong><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8171707335265268229-2758819693342467623?l=inprontaenlasdunas2.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Andrés Díaz Castro(Andestdi)http://www.blogger.com/profile/01569464024292950877noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8171707335265268229.post-26885211992663983792012-01-30T10:58:00.000Z2012-01-30T10:58:17.675ZConvicción mortal.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-e0nTlA1sJew/TyZ2SBn79DI/AAAAAAAAAbQ/sh9OYOuXReI/s1600/Foto-0019+(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-e0nTlA1sJew/TyZ2SBn79DI/AAAAAAAAAbQ/sh9OYOuXReI/s320/Foto-0019+(2).jpg" width="320" /></a></div><strong><em><span style="font-size: xx-small;"> Amanecer en el Aeropuerto de Fuerteventura (Foto con teléfono)</span></em></strong><br /><br /><strong><em>Deambulo por el infinito</em></strong><br /><strong><em>de mi terca finitud</em></strong><br /><strong><em>con la magia aleatoria</em></strong><br /><strong><em>de las palabras para andar</em></strong><br /><br /><strong><em>Llevo de un lugar a otro</em></strong><br /><strong><em>polen</em></strong><br /><strong><em>y polvo</em></strong><br /><strong><em>germen </em></strong><br /><strong><em>y destrucción</em></strong><br /><br /><strong><em>No soy demasiado animal</em></strong><br /><strong><em>como para no sentirme hombre</em></strong><br /><strong><em>ni demasiado hombre</em></strong><br /><strong><em>como para no aullar</em></strong><br /><br /><strong><em>Toda pregunta</em></strong><br /><strong><em>abre una metamorfosis</em></strong><br /><strong><em>en el laberinto</em></strong><br /><strong><em>partir</em></strong><br /><strong><em>es dar una oportunidad al asombro.</em></strong><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8171707335265268229-2688521199266398379?l=inprontaenlasdunas2.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Andrés Díaz Castro(Andestdi)http://www.blogger.com/profile/01569464024292950877noreply@blogger.com6