tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4949561158953951782024-03-15T18:12:52.502-07:00el vuelo mágicosigmahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11840242452881421399noreply@blogger.comBlogger993125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-494956115895395178.post-47473843564301420662024-03-12T11:54:00.000-07:002024-03-12T11:54:35.585-07:00RESISTENCIA<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg13MfWRDOzasHFrkwinYW8ujFQTEZ-juysfYu8JOSKeWS9hIR3YAAXDa72fKGA9GEJ6HaeR8IQ3aRXnBH4HJaS1CGrO9BWeMos-nW0laNBGMyJ-XGiwg7x_ZMcuWYcAK7Sk9Dgv-qQSzCCsgwe7An1N9B4RBENjo0v45gQGBH6T4dZe-1RGI6g7xlGn9lT/s1200/_DSF7273-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="899" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg13MfWRDOzasHFrkwinYW8ujFQTEZ-juysfYu8JOSKeWS9hIR3YAAXDa72fKGA9GEJ6HaeR8IQ3aRXnBH4HJaS1CGrO9BWeMos-nW0laNBGMyJ-XGiwg7x_ZMcuWYcAK7Sk9Dgv-qQSzCCsgwe7An1N9B4RBENjo0v45gQGBH6T4dZe-1RGI6g7xlGn9lT/w480-h640/_DSF7273-2.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">Adelántate a toda despedida, como si la hubieras dejado</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">atrás, como el invierno que se está yendo</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">Pues bajo los inviernos hay uno tan infinitamente invierno</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">que, si lo pasas, tu corazón resistirá.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"> <i>R.M. Rilke. Elegías de Duino. Los Sonetos a Orfeo. </i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><i> Traducción de Eustaquio Barjau. Cátedra, 2022.</i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></p>sigmahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11840242452881421399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-494956115895395178.post-49527119340345660812024-02-29T11:05:00.000-08:002024-02-29T11:09:14.402-08:00AUSENCIA<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVk84Lq4g1tlxANK2oLZYPYbsIgmxUkxNhkQhX1MweteHhTwwuX1OkvXS-Hy94-abs0Y1VmWbAS8DbWBKp2rZs8FCz3f-bW9RptNGNpigu1DisUuukheeY7gQvjKByRSQmK8V8zs8F1xqjYNw5RNmCna4QbeRSRnVIuYxpc0RxQ2u-06dh844uVU2SHU9B/s1200/_DSF7270.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="901" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVk84Lq4g1tlxANK2oLZYPYbsIgmxUkxNhkQhX1MweteHhTwwuX1OkvXS-Hy94-abs0Y1VmWbAS8DbWBKp2rZs8FCz3f-bW9RptNGNpigu1DisUuukheeY7gQvjKByRSQmK8V8zs8F1xqjYNw5RNmCna4QbeRSRnVIuYxpc0RxQ2u-06dh844uVU2SHU9B/w480-h640/_DSF7270.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">ESTE SUEÑO, que acabo de soñar y en cuyo tenue</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">borde te hiciste no visible, limita con la nada.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><i> José Ángel Valente. Fragmentos de un libro futuro. Galaxia Gutenberg, 2019</i></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p> <p></p>sigmahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11840242452881421399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-494956115895395178.post-77134761149467388272024-02-25T10:39:00.000-08:002024-02-25T10:39:48.843-08:00RECORDANDO A PEPA<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2e900k8d22W6MU9qCgP3oogrcXazZwVJRMmE9pLWi8uDVMVDSEhUFhS9qg6E9QyJmf4LWfGlBjgISWdBsHH1c_pKX5fLP1uh7sKn2i6bmZPu8bxKIOw_g04bYVkx1KexrngzWBFkT5L5MihUmpZjrIXKbXFHjuOsWDCrX5I5Vnvn40wjpvkEBmqeSB51p/s1200/DSC00022.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2e900k8d22W6MU9qCgP3oogrcXazZwVJRMmE9pLWi8uDVMVDSEhUFhS9qg6E9QyJmf4LWfGlBjgISWdBsHH1c_pKX5fLP1uh7sKn2i6bmZPu8bxKIOw_g04bYVkx1KexrngzWBFkT5L5MihUmpZjrIXKbXFHjuOsWDCrX5I5Vnvn40wjpvkEBmqeSB51p/w400-h400/DSC00022.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">adiós, adiós...</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">yo también soy efímero:</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">rocío en la hierba.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"> <i>Banzan (1661-1730).Instantes. Nueva antología del haiku japonés.Poesía Hiperión, 2009</i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></p>sigmahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11840242452881421399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-494956115895395178.post-77341643301640614452024-02-23T02:04:00.000-08:002024-02-23T02:07:08.993-08:00BUTES , 2<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-qzEmNVtuUcibzRetEqF2c8hDPgvyiLHK3EGPzXTRe2hBye4BiI3S3qTSaDtdR_ASy78XKlDz1-jXUdClsE4Zfdu1xHSAUZYGFaNqHQ5rFQh3Sd5P_U6iZZW_p6VZz62hL4YrkX6TlVfZPASoRBwdEj2VdVa9p6b7ruyDfn2XVi6ERowmYD6FThyphenhyphen0igjw/s1200/A.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="895" data-original-width="1200" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-qzEmNVtuUcibzRetEqF2c8hDPgvyiLHK3EGPzXTRe2hBye4BiI3S3qTSaDtdR_ASy78XKlDz1-jXUdClsE4Zfdu1xHSAUZYGFaNqHQ5rFQh3Sd5P_U6iZZW_p6VZz62hL4YrkX6TlVfZPASoRBwdEj2VdVa9p6b7ruyDfn2XVi6ERowmYD6FThyphenhyphen0igjw/w640-h478/A.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">Ha salido de su escondite. Ha dimitido de su puesto. Ha abandonado su fila. Ha escalado los muros de la prisión. Ha alcanzado la espontaneidad soberana de la naturaleza.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"> <i>Pascal Quignard. Butes. Sexto Piso, 2012</i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></p>sigmahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11840242452881421399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-494956115895395178.post-6722697592708644912024-02-09T02:11:00.000-08:002024-02-23T02:07:44.677-08:00BUTES, 1<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsw5Xjn2WwvlWwhhGxBBf2kamEYGWSjcrAe4W98Sm32ZuyAvZ793_Tq0qjquAztUlWpcu7w945LJh3cDasBbI0hesEypI_X5xzpK7oQRfywmld6aqwqUN8RxjganuPBCmcWskaykg9lpUvBrB4x8qROkA3yXmhLq0R3h0SsiaCt_MF11pW3vbJcUFHdAQv/s1200/Sin%20ti%CC%81tulo-2%20copia.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="900" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsw5Xjn2WwvlWwhhGxBBf2kamEYGWSjcrAe4W98Sm32ZuyAvZ793_Tq0qjquAztUlWpcu7w945LJh3cDasBbI0hesEypI_X5xzpK7oQRfywmld6aqwqUN8RxjganuPBCmcWskaykg9lpUvBrB4x8qROkA3yXmhLq0R3h0SsiaCt_MF11pW3vbJcUFHdAQv/w480-h640/Sin%20ti%CC%81tulo-2%20copia.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">¿Qué hay en el fondo del deseo de arrojarse al mar? ¿Qué hay en el fondo del deseo de sumergirse en la cosa que obsesiona; de dar el último salto; de lanzarse sin demora y decididamente en pos de lo que se ignora; de franquear el Rubicón; de romper las amarras; de liberarse de todas las precauciones; de arrojarse a la boca del lobo; de jugar a fondo perdido?</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"> <i> Pascal Quignard. Butes. Sexto Piso, 2012</i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p>sigmahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11840242452881421399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-494956115895395178.post-35449948878841754522024-01-27T08:53:00.000-08:002024-01-27T08:55:29.021-08:00LA MUJER DE PIE<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb-oN5GXONVnHFDGLGteudrRjfh5niZtc9kstpReK_Rt4EA9PEV74vQWLcpHPaTj9WpWp05MiIJ-I3q0uXYI4CuJVOzVJaEB5IrpHThTfEvYIsLaWGbVDbi90K67maQvMt_0-XeuqTDaTzCAhZ9stp32y1GzSnJsSdMQBY0r3IPmYLq-TQgy7bNY2Lpev1/s1200/DSC00009.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="444" data-original-width="1200" height="236" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb-oN5GXONVnHFDGLGteudrRjfh5niZtc9kstpReK_Rt4EA9PEV74vQWLcpHPaTj9WpWp05MiIJ-I3q0uXYI4CuJVOzVJaEB5IrpHThTfEvYIsLaWGbVDbi90K67maQvMt_0-XeuqTDaTzCAhZ9stp32y1GzSnJsSdMQBY0r3IPmYLq-TQgy7bNY2Lpev1/w640-h236/DSC00009.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">La mujer de pie ha cerrado los ojos mientras pensaba. Ahora deja de pensar y se fija en cierto inusitado bienestar que la adormece reparando el insomnio. Advierte que proviene de sus párpados. Una luz dorada los atraviesa, suave. No abre los ojos. Permanece atenta a aquella luminosidad.</span><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">Inmóvil, la mujer de pie realiza su fotosíntesis.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"> <i> Chantal Maillard. La mujer de pie. Galaxia Gutenberg, 2015</i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><i> </i></span></p>sigmahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11840242452881421399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-494956115895395178.post-71556938153378161602024-01-19T11:25:00.000-08:002024-01-19T11:28:09.308-08:00IMÁGENES - CONSTRUYEN - IMÁGENES<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz1ZHFXFKLkTeQVEqfGrVvJOFdjOoHtGWosdoQsk7d8Knsb4ZHkWIgKBq2yAkxL82HXxv0ZXb44L9lFKsJ6TdyYxRnPMVowPXn0ko5j2ZSx31RMnJ9o3fEzmbrZzih8S7HS5DU752A_TYXqGHJYw3WszAnnItyk-pEoVPnVjnQ1AQMugRTSsOgnOw1viFQ/s1200/Sin%20ti%CC%81tulo-1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="799" data-original-width="1200" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz1ZHFXFKLkTeQVEqfGrVvJOFdjOoHtGWosdoQsk7d8Knsb4ZHkWIgKBq2yAkxL82HXxv0ZXb44L9lFKsJ6TdyYxRnPMVowPXn0ko5j2ZSx31RMnJ9o3fEzmbrZzih8S7HS5DU752A_TYXqGHJYw3WszAnnItyk-pEoVPnVjnQ1AQMugRTSsOgnOw1viFQ/w640-h426/Sin%20ti%CC%81tulo-1.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">Todo lo finito se revela desde el vacío pues el abismo del conocimiento nos seduce por el ejercicio del misterio, y pienso ahora en la tarea de la construcción de las imágenes, mas estas son sucesivamente reemplazadas por la nueva emergencia de otras, es una tarea inagotada su creación: imágenes-construyen-imágenes.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">Cartas en torno a Manolo Millares, Pablo Palazuelo y otros. Una correspondencia (2018-2022) entre <span style="color: #f3f3f3;"><i><b>Alfonso de la Torre</b></i> </span>y <i><b><span style="color: #f3f3f3;">Joan Gómez Alemany</span></b></i>. EdictOralia, Valencia, 2022</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p>sigmahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11840242452881421399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-494956115895395178.post-47206775365134226002024-01-12T10:27:00.000-08:002024-01-12T10:28:40.745-08:00EXPLORAR LO DESCONOCIDO<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-gaM-4oLPZ2CheeUd63nz5sOZuamOuh8Fxo3XIbptFHnvRozpwgQ8gYxEF5GVuQ1gFAMlsEAKLBBmt7X_wXRkc1PcBy1s97ZC49-3AUSqGEiRKvwLeknWSX6jUfBG37a1eadENtctH8tAvVc9S-1tT9ix6wBtwrBV185xC0ccZ4-dRYrIzy0jC5N_5o-F/s1200/DSC00006.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="794" data-original-width="1200" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-gaM-4oLPZ2CheeUd63nz5sOZuamOuh8Fxo3XIbptFHnvRozpwgQ8gYxEF5GVuQ1gFAMlsEAKLBBmt7X_wXRkc1PcBy1s97ZC49-3AUSqGEiRKvwLeknWSX6jUfBG37a1eadENtctH8tAvVc9S-1tT9ix6wBtwrBV185xC0ccZ4-dRYrIzy0jC5N_5o-F/w640-h424/DSC00006.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><br /><p></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">El poeta como el chamán ha de entrar "más adentro en la espesura", explorar lo desconocido, ser huésped privilegiado del jardín.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"> <i>José A. Valente. Elogio del calígrafo.Galaxia Gutenberg, 2002 </i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></p>sigmahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11840242452881421399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-494956115895395178.post-14082417435118759352024-01-05T15:13:00.000-08:002024-01-05T15:13:58.939-08:00RECORDANDO A RAFA GADEA<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw_uuYDyJGKwaVMt2wJH-yz3NtWd-WfZSrKDiigS07wbm5btiTcgLGUvzMPF6ArffHdhsqGNUYj95lin9ocLqYdQ0rcsKHOfRBYnjacEZlHTHLN75au49AbBD8p53AtMZRxIV5mIsp-q8C-3pXrLBbtcBRLJJ45HKqgFY2-T643TbD-Le_qk49IXtZE06S/s1200/DSC00021Z.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="967" data-original-width="1200" height="517" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw_uuYDyJGKwaVMt2wJH-yz3NtWd-WfZSrKDiigS07wbm5btiTcgLGUvzMPF6ArffHdhsqGNUYj95lin9ocLqYdQ0rcsKHOfRBYnjacEZlHTHLN75au49AbBD8p53AtMZRxIV5mIsp-q8C-3pXrLBbtcBRLJJ45HKqgFY2-T643TbD-Le_qk49IXtZE06S/w640-h517/DSC00021Z.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">Sueño.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">Estoy de visita</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">en el jardín de un mago.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">Allí hay un banco</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">todo de rosas carmesíes.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">¡Por favor!</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">Me invita a sentarme.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"> <i> Paul Klee. Casi todos los poemas. Eda Libros, 2019</i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></p>sigmahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11840242452881421399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-494956115895395178.post-8887318239956446332024-01-02T02:16:00.000-08:002024-01-02T02:16:02.141-08:00¡ FELIZ 2024 !<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk6x6bH53frXqCT8-7r5RHjQGO1kVBgLItMqBc7EV3FaW0rI0KqiBmYM5SBvizmey94-noTR8jpVlBqerPlG9sNeyJN6XOIoeXP4iIDFEBQSSXOr55bP5DLz_hAPqFWu0IXVbq8fzU0gsf0B1t4_skdA0vzbrW-Wcgf-Yd2KAU-zvdXNl1a-z51O3tBaDG/s1200/DSC00024b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="811" data-original-width="1200" height="432" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk6x6bH53frXqCT8-7r5RHjQGO1kVBgLItMqBc7EV3FaW0rI0KqiBmYM5SBvizmey94-noTR8jpVlBqerPlG9sNeyJN6XOIoeXP4iIDFEBQSSXOr55bP5DLz_hAPqFWu0IXVbq8fzU0gsf0B1t4_skdA0vzbrW-Wcgf-Yd2KAU-zvdXNl1a-z51O3tBaDG/w640-h432/DSC00024b.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><br /> <p></p>sigmahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11840242452881421399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-494956115895395178.post-76482949799977242112023-12-21T13:05:00.000-08:002023-12-21T13:05:46.512-08:00LIMPIEZA <p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYO_P9UqOecQjWqa_44ReJkUMBxA7b0ZPJCFoz0fNaLfjm9MRh9v9xtYkaUFZSVm-tcJdmvGfY-0Ut9ZvYFrNZiSL6Xzn7pY3d8Mg9rEytIwSuhr2bK8Z1fzv_S35-sCa0yDyVzivL0t0itkpdFp_97WGJlHhRvFnQQ756rW3NNB3w-jzromcMblpMx0YD/s1200/_DSF7053.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="798" data-original-width="1200" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYO_P9UqOecQjWqa_44ReJkUMBxA7b0ZPJCFoz0fNaLfjm9MRh9v9xtYkaUFZSVm-tcJdmvGfY-0Ut9ZvYFrNZiSL6Xzn7pY3d8Mg9rEytIwSuhr2bK8Z1fzv_S35-sCa0yDyVzivL0t0itkpdFp_97WGJlHhRvFnQQ756rW3NNB3w-jzromcMblpMx0YD/w640-h426/_DSF7053.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">Limpiar el corazón como se limpia el pescado, con el cuchillo viejo, bajo un chorro de agua pura, desescamándolo. Separar la carne de la piel. Atención a los pinchos venenosos de la aleta dorsal.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"> <i>Vicente Valero. Canción del distraído. Vaso Roto, 2015</i></span></p>sigmahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11840242452881421399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-494956115895395178.post-74994093740938061962023-12-08T03:34:00.000-08:002023-12-08T05:26:38.539-08:00LA PASIÓN<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdYmZ2UtEascz0KOYJFpLhc4v4RUB2srnCok-EYgN4T2k2ANg6xVICjlqWQVFAKmMy69-fe-z14C8-aUU46XVWqi9PSbcgiiX6Gt3sP4Ceew4lv9CGx4G2j1oUpi5XJZroM8AE8AgNDtiuaA9v5EEa_ZIK_y3AqKRgNNY13pGOqARYZBtVWhyphenhyphenfxmm0p1Di/s1200/_DSF7050.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="902" data-original-width="1200" height="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdYmZ2UtEascz0KOYJFpLhc4v4RUB2srnCok-EYgN4T2k2ANg6xVICjlqWQVFAKmMy69-fe-z14C8-aUU46XVWqi9PSbcgiiX6Gt3sP4Ceew4lv9CGx4G2j1oUpi5XJZroM8AE8AgNDtiuaA9v5EEa_ZIK_y3AqKRgNNY13pGOqARYZBtVWhyphenhyphenfxmm0p1Di/w640-h482/_DSF7050.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /> <p><span style="font-size: medium;">.<span style="font-family: Calibri;">..Miro hacia ti un instante y de mi voz</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">ni un hilo ya me acude,</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">la lengua queda inerte y un sutil</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">fuego bajo la piel fluye ligero</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">y con mis ojos nada alcanzo a ver</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">y zumban mis oídos;</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">me desborda el sudor, toda me invade</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">un temblor, y más pálida me vuelvo</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">que la hierba. No falta-me parece-</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">mucho para estar muerta.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">...</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"> <i> Safo, poemas y testimonios. Edición de Aurora Luque. Acantilado,2022</i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><i><br /></i></span></p>sigmahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11840242452881421399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-494956115895395178.post-29959231228252244352023-11-28T11:07:00.000-08:002023-11-28T11:10:11.328-08:00CONCIERTOS DE LA NOCHE<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIPqJGGPNzOQt9B3L4GV1uuF3LpKcVAFV2dEv-vhH5gu5sB72TuEikgXExcS-rBbmR-PnFp4L74qndF3-5agT6KXZa7nEx_YeTnkQge9ft7OlLWPJ4J2YFl_sog7fVwd8k6ZGA6SXHSf4R4TI2e_SUeKe1Se1-lcYs7gE60dmP00vmc7u0ZdTQ41JoxDiq/s1200/DSC00015.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="613" data-original-width="1200" height="326" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIPqJGGPNzOQt9B3L4GV1uuF3LpKcVAFV2dEv-vhH5gu5sB72TuEikgXExcS-rBbmR-PnFp4L74qndF3-5agT6KXZa7nEx_YeTnkQge9ft7OlLWPJ4J2YFl_sog7fVwd8k6ZGA6SXHSf4R4TI2e_SUeKe1Se1-lcYs7gE60dmP00vmc7u0ZdTQ41JoxDiq/w640-h326/DSC00015.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /> <div><br /><p></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Navegas con la boca toda llena de rosas</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri;">hacia el mar de las músicas y el sacrílego ocaso.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Conciertos de la noche, pagana melodía</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri;">de tu nevada carne contra un cielo de raso.</span></p><p><i><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> Antonio Colinas. Noche más allá de la noche. Fundación Jorge Guillén, 2004</span></i></p></div>sigmahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11840242452881421399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-494956115895395178.post-90767489850579752932023-11-21T11:44:00.000-08:002023-11-21T11:44:28.349-08:00EN EL SILENCIO DE LA LUZ<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEg94BY7lv4PS12VkjaLsXmIocOzYNaU99OBLgbDgdKx03ZxQGXmqHh5-D3Mjlq2PYO-cb4mm-345uHY0_5Y6Buw5wtEzL65qDtHbpSJoHi8oB4GsfiF4U-ulWRBQJXD7IPG35OpdnRJtMo88Ugdpx6Vv8yL-eFPKY0Ae_4PBOdCZNWnpEAwGWEJZ80hmd/s1200/DSC00018.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="597" data-original-width="1200" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEg94BY7lv4PS12VkjaLsXmIocOzYNaU99OBLgbDgdKx03ZxQGXmqHh5-D3Mjlq2PYO-cb4mm-345uHY0_5Y6Buw5wtEzL65qDtHbpSJoHi8oB4GsfiF4U-ulWRBQJXD7IPG35OpdnRJtMo88Ugdpx6Vv8yL-eFPKY0Ae_4PBOdCZNWnpEAwGWEJZ80hmd/w640-h318/DSC00018.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p><br /></p><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Era invierno. Caía la noche. Corrimos como locos.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri;">La noche llegó rapidísimo.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> <i> Pascal Quignard. Vida secreta. El cuenco de plata, 2018<br /> </i></span></p>sigmahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11840242452881421399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-494956115895395178.post-32914990316282523502023-11-14T04:04:00.000-08:002023-11-14T04:09:57.713-08:00LA CREACIÓN<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM6Tq7ijtHJDm4Xag-5Hm-KBgKQB_7IJjYzfoOtu8-8qCsGyHZwW1h9ofT5h1WAhYlkod0CErak5EtsJ3fFtjg51NntjQjEF29Yw3MyYXFazRAlHgL7cxRbMWa9l-Afet68Ydgj6Lz7ua_XnLzEXnF8d2Kvu2Pbf0Km7dgXPwR8edHIuYB7UZOrZ2GyZJx/s1200/final1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="433" data-original-width="1200" height="230" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM6Tq7ijtHJDm4Xag-5Hm-KBgKQB_7IJjYzfoOtu8-8qCsGyHZwW1h9ofT5h1WAhYlkod0CErak5EtsJ3fFtjg51NntjQjEF29Yw3MyYXFazRAlHgL7cxRbMWa9l-Afet68Ydgj6Lz7ua_XnLzEXnF8d2Kvu2Pbf0Km7dgXPwR8edHIuYB7UZOrZ2GyZJx/w640-h230/final1.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">Vueltos siempre a la creación, vemos</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">solo sobre ella el reflejo de lo libre,</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">oscurecido por nosotros. O que un animal,</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">un animal mudo, levanta la vista, tranquilo atravesándonos.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"> <i> R.M.Rilke. Elegías de Duino. Los sonetos a Orfeo. </i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><i> Cátedra, 2022, </i></span><i style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Traducción de Eustaquio Barjau.</i></p><p><i style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;"><br /></i></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><i><br /></i></span></p><p><br /></p>sigmahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11840242452881421399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-494956115895395178.post-15330250054255306372023-11-05T03:29:00.007-08:002023-11-05T03:30:42.115-08:00LO INEFABLE<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnJL-BGssSpRpNJB6tWRkqxmK-0Rgt8GtbPLlEUgM4_dkti8vp5G9CS3igdJW5Eb7xvVuCfUSsbAvTdyWim8kscxBeLGOHZLx8E8XTn8mtnK8vTbuVSF-cUHTT4uszpnwLFDYZAVS-O8E3z_Hru0hD6QltwGN0jc5rxC7SewwSrXkF2zeINLNbQIdI_enx/s1200/DSC00208-copia1.gif" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnJL-BGssSpRpNJB6tWRkqxmK-0Rgt8GtbPLlEUgM4_dkti8vp5G9CS3igdJW5Eb7xvVuCfUSsbAvTdyWim8kscxBeLGOHZLx8E8XTn8mtnK8vTbuVSF-cUHTT4uszpnwLFDYZAVS-O8E3z_Hru0hD6QltwGN0jc5rxC7SewwSrXkF2zeINLNbQIdI_enx/w400-h400/DSC00208-copia1.gif" width="400" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">¡Felices los que saben que por detrás</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">de todas las lenguas se halla lo inefable;</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">y desde allí, para nuestra complacencia,</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">pasa a nosotros lo grande!</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"> <i> R.M.Rilke. Antología poética. Austral, 2016. Traducción de Jaime Ferreiro</i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></p>sigmahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11840242452881421399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-494956115895395178.post-67521889074265863072023-10-28T02:22:00.001-07:002023-10-28T02:22:49.660-07:00ELEGÍA<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWfwXfvohHNb4Z-vhZKS0ni3oVHsy_khYWCkxIUE-xZSSEy9u0oL4BE7JzDdOci-8W4Yig3G-wxzm3q9dNv2Fgb3vvj9u3goEDXcbjIt2sRSo2hZEpVAzfr-NZUYDl0mpNZLxaUg41hmuT56LbNyM85eJ6w_LIk0bFWEc9gY7J_MQ-4mXpKJgVBNjg3Opd/s1200/DSC00009-copia2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWfwXfvohHNb4Z-vhZKS0ni3oVHsy_khYWCkxIUE-xZSSEy9u0oL4BE7JzDdOci-8W4Yig3G-wxzm3q9dNv2Fgb3vvj9u3goEDXcbjIt2sRSo2hZEpVAzfr-NZUYDl0mpNZLxaUg41hmuT56LbNyM85eJ6w_LIk0bFWEc9gY7J_MQ-4mXpKJgVBNjg3Opd/w640-h320/DSC00009-copia2.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">Amaba. Amaba todo eso que llevaba dentro de sí, la maraña interior,</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">la selva ancestral en mudo derrumbamiento, sobre la cual se alzaba</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">con luz verdosa su propio corazón. Amaba.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"> <i>R.M.Rilke. Elegias de Duino. </i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><i> Antología poética. Austral, 2016. Traducción de Jaime Ferreiro.</i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></p>sigmahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11840242452881421399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-494956115895395178.post-36335817813443546422023-10-15T02:50:00.004-07:002023-10-15T02:50:44.367-07:00APOLO Y DAFNE, 3<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3c9onVJypbUPe5ddORbsl_BtWkgXraJx3HNSwtIkfZI0hE8s5ERnpU07eDPrHKFDlTlr25wz4y8NnF9Lv5-lnhmfcXnxbjANDUfSX4aPhzKwFpoWt6Dz8jtGmWuWTJc6TCc6osaLt-98uzcDPvzntVRclt2vYH-B0YYjEAuNn1Ws87mu7klntrHR41THZ/s1200/+luz3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="493" data-original-width="1200" height="262" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3c9onVJypbUPe5ddORbsl_BtWkgXraJx3HNSwtIkfZI0hE8s5ERnpU07eDPrHKFDlTlr25wz4y8NnF9Lv5-lnhmfcXnxbjANDUfSX4aPhzKwFpoWt6Dz8jtGmWuWTJc6TCc6osaLt-98uzcDPvzntVRclt2vYH-B0YYjEAuNn1Ws87mu7klntrHR41THZ/w640-h262/+luz3.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">Dar alcance...llegar al otro. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">Menos ruido...más luz.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p>sigmahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11840242452881421399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-494956115895395178.post-18154564946030362762023-10-01T11:49:00.003-07:002023-10-15T02:51:44.532-07:00APOLO Y DAFNE , 2<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6h0EFqSgCzY2RUU6_Y26Hyq_hpunoEdbqbTfUXJTqOYCxXbNLKLqbJ7IRBdmJ-jMD3eWXoXSdz1l7qQJjPtodjCktBbMP5SrUJCHSTKcmCA08_d-nxOSa9K6FC1F5xk4RdvARDQYUM88I53mUMjg4U2NjNbcGTrBegp_8xYIVleSUWkFsnpuy63VfqbKJ/s1200/signos%2013.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="483" data-original-width="1200" height="258" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6h0EFqSgCzY2RUU6_Y26Hyq_hpunoEdbqbTfUXJTqOYCxXbNLKLqbJ7IRBdmJ-jMD3eWXoXSdz1l7qQJjPtodjCktBbMP5SrUJCHSTKcmCA08_d-nxOSa9K6FC1F5xk4RdvARDQYUM88I53mUMjg4U2NjNbcGTrBegp_8xYIVleSUWkFsnpuy63VfqbKJ/w640-h258/signos%2013.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">Apolo y Dafne.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">Dar alcance...llegar al otro</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p>sigmahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11840242452881421399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-494956115895395178.post-34399639104986160522023-09-25T11:34:00.001-07:002023-09-25T11:34:15.549-07:00APOLO Y DAFNE ,1<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEPBdhdanYCPr7Puk3IAieWMdiV5386hXKbE7gY_ij8U9wnDJS7-ntMwTiI_hoTI7NKVnZsLBIFblO2oxBvBRfyE_YWJGKfd-uo_9QGTCfFETL7_iIeKejhRqd2B8r2dVdaY-sNAgP8U9adVffgL0azBteejOV4QycJo-Lv0NbZttsNbIb-IkXKb3oyTMn/s1200/apoloydafne.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="739" data-original-width="1200" height="246" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEPBdhdanYCPr7Puk3IAieWMdiV5386hXKbE7gY_ij8U9wnDJS7-ntMwTiI_hoTI7NKVnZsLBIFblO2oxBvBRfyE_YWJGKfd-uo_9QGTCfFETL7_iIeKejhRqd2B8r2dVdaY-sNAgP8U9adVffgL0azBteejOV4QycJo-Lv0NbZttsNbIb-IkXKb3oyTMn/w400-h246/apoloydafne.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">Apolo y Dafne, delgadísimos.2023</span></p>sigmahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11840242452881421399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-494956115895395178.post-16512897544369427922023-09-20T10:30:00.004-07:002023-09-20T10:50:46.981-07:00ADIÓS A MARÍA TORRES, "LA OSITO". LA MÁS GUAPA.<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIhHX_U4DTmPnyi5cuFPc0WzJRHgJr-S29UzTM65Wm1aHZvWQjyoJCOtcon1Y0s7AErwPDzSDk5qK0ZAxlQRMPQTVDwUrNEBSuwkGajce5IUs13Vs0ldXLgdHyv-_mmUSWtCPCqRdTmdIcsmCYBKUbCs2GxUqARbzGLffYRaJXujtyQyV_jXPcBlsVTSVn/s2588/DSC00015a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1953" data-original-width="2588" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIhHX_U4DTmPnyi5cuFPc0WzJRHgJr-S29UzTM65Wm1aHZvWQjyoJCOtcon1Y0s7AErwPDzSDk5qK0ZAxlQRMPQTVDwUrNEBSuwkGajce5IUs13Vs0ldXLgdHyv-_mmUSWtCPCqRdTmdIcsmCYBKUbCs2GxUqARbzGLffYRaJXujtyQyV_jXPcBlsVTSVn/s320/DSC00015a.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">...así se cierran, ante frondas pespunteadas,</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">las nítidas estrellas en racimos de seda,</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">y mezclan de tal forma que casi se confunde</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">la quietud con vainilla y con canela.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"> <i>Rainer María Rilke. Nuevos poemas II. Hiperión, 1999</i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></p>sigmahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11840242452881421399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-494956115895395178.post-23711230172945928452023-09-15T03:37:00.000-07:002023-09-15T03:37:03.833-07:00DE PASO<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX1_8_HDKDC61mEkQ0_KjHIYNILJGLIrKhTRJReFn-pOBXe_kD0ahhk0zAPgtyMggGR8BOVGw8Bg0l57wKsBWuSdwt8Rs-SDLtHF8FAYJ38qqRKfxBoMKORaGNK10iXq28R9PMFZptxfN1ow8awbFkOcKagT9AnnC-a_ze6XfKAHv4qwltDpYaGToprjcA/s1200/SIGNOS2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="738" data-original-width="1200" height="246" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX1_8_HDKDC61mEkQ0_KjHIYNILJGLIrKhTRJReFn-pOBXe_kD0ahhk0zAPgtyMggGR8BOVGw8Bg0l57wKsBWuSdwt8Rs-SDLtHF8FAYJ38qqRKfxBoMKORaGNK10iXq28R9PMFZptxfN1ow8awbFkOcKagT9AnnC-a_ze6XfKAHv4qwltDpYaGToprjcA/w400-h246/SIGNOS2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">aves de paso:</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">también mi casa es</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">morada efímera.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"> <i>Mukai Kyorai (1651-1704). Instantes. Nueva antología del haiku japonés. Hiperión, 2009</i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></p>sigmahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11840242452881421399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-494956115895395178.post-48986916345392044262023-09-09T08:39:00.006-07:002023-09-09T08:42:43.358-07:00ADIÓS A JOSÉ ANDÚJAR<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOt2I55QFuwmZwKHCv0KgWBmCuXFHYWQ-fNtybCmhrBv-zwexuGnTGqQPP_t48tOw245ZabGUvjcdxHGEjgG7cspo1_Y26OrsLJL2wAZLMu7ohJWW05UX7bZzu2jVB_AOx2lGNJaNf71NkHlX3L18nEE3zAX3Tc-kN_Utt8_nfZLyy_9DDQ1nPdufBzEK9/s1200/IMG_1287-(1)b.gif" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1200" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOt2I55QFuwmZwKHCv0KgWBmCuXFHYWQ-fNtybCmhrBv-zwexuGnTGqQPP_t48tOw245ZabGUvjcdxHGEjgG7cspo1_Y26OrsLJL2wAZLMu7ohJWW05UX7bZzu2jVB_AOx2lGNJaNf71NkHlX3L18nEE3zAX3Tc-kN_Utt8_nfZLyy_9DDQ1nPdufBzEK9/w640-h480/IMG_1287-(1)b.gif" width="640" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">Rotas horas, las olas.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">Se anticipan,</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">se empujan,</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">se disgregan.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">Recomienzan el ciclo permanente.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">En su justo engranaje nos emulan:</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">detras alguien</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">siempre mira morir a alguien que mira.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">Se apresuran, se escanden,</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">mezclan voces.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"> <i> Andrés Neuman. Década. Acantilado, 2008</i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><i>*La fotografía es de Luis Matilla</i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></p>sigmahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11840242452881421399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-494956115895395178.post-53552505825610638862023-09-04T09:20:00.000-07:002023-09-04T09:20:12.031-07:00DISOLUCIÓN<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4r2Aok-aGoyt_zbgM9MGb0Kl450l2178f8IrMxzjYmPnnYNvUvZpzfv9AC78R0t947SLpFKvru64HKVtc_Kf_-NuXOI27JfuhQyxWjqI9gNDYHa2E8zsaLFHo9WMyPxDxCzG80S6qKSGsLLIdPsS6t2_nSseKdefEzoZv25oLTX6W27lDhQua9BVhz5d7/s1200/DSC00005.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="740" data-original-width="1200" height="246" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4r2Aok-aGoyt_zbgM9MGb0Kl450l2178f8IrMxzjYmPnnYNvUvZpzfv9AC78R0t947SLpFKvru64HKVtc_Kf_-NuXOI27JfuhQyxWjqI9gNDYHa2E8zsaLFHo9WMyPxDxCzG80S6qKSGsLLIdPsS6t2_nSseKdefEzoZv25oLTX6W27lDhQua9BVhz5d7/w400-h246/DSC00005.gif" width="400" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">Toda experiencia extrema del lenguaje tiende a la disolución de éste. Como tiende la forma a su disolución en toda experiencia extrema de la forma.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"> <i> José Ángel Valente. Variaciones sobre el pájaro y la red. Tusquets, 1991</i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></p>sigmahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11840242452881421399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-494956115895395178.post-33288289395486350822023-09-01T09:26:00.003-07:002023-09-01T10:09:43.759-07:00ZIGZAGUEANDO<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgHdf3Ls1sQQrxO8fehYf2kjHgra9-sV0MS5s0qVhslanMq6N-mSui1KCdVQN6npPxZgBlEZRkmZ_spJohqUMKY1RNGF4kHmB7tKprVRIiJbD1snAMzX8lcRDW4MBjpa_-2f8xenWtznzp_GZJR1hZd4F-3rCCHCR8CN6Qz_OXvd3NEhJeNgAGx9DkOY_B-" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="739" data-original-width="1200" height="246" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgHdf3Ls1sQQrxO8fehYf2kjHgra9-sV0MS5s0qVhslanMq6N-mSui1KCdVQN6npPxZgBlEZRkmZ_spJohqUMKY1RNGF4kHmB7tKprVRIiJbD1snAMzX8lcRDW4MBjpa_-2f8xenWtznzp_GZJR1hZd4F-3rCCHCR8CN6Qz_OXvd3NEhJeNgAGx9DkOY_B-=w400-h246" width="400" /></a></div><br /><br /></div><br /></div><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">¿Ataques románticos?</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">¿Fantasías?</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">¿Ilusiones?</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">¿Masas de vapor gravemente apiladas?</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">¿Rayos zigzagueando?</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">Dramático:¡la ley se</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">sale de quicio!</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;">¡Oh!</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"> <i>Paul Klee. Casi todos los poemas. NorteySur, 2019</i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></p>sigmahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11840242452881421399noreply@blogger.com0