Ossídio Gaspar

How to dress well


Close of disclose closer to closing. Clothing.

Birthday bones wrapped in skin. I enclose a gift.

This is a repetition not because it sounds like one.

It begins by oscillation, plateaus and then it looks like itself enough to distance

To not know itself, so it can hide itself without its own knowledge

I acknowledgements

The unfolding, taking clothes off, by literally putting them on.

This is the same thing.

Disclose of the closest to non-disclosure of writing. Cloth.

The thing I put it on is the thing I put on. I put in.

I am put in.

Non-knowledge of acknowledgement.

It begins because I can give myself away.

My Self to myself and myself to My Self. I dress really well.

Life is on the surface, going in is not knowing, either.

After the plateau the promise of its opposite might revise the surface. Dying.

Either or more what I put back on – repeat my dress sense

Acknowledge of gift not wanted. I cannot give myself away.

Knowledge of giving not-wanted.

Biography of hairs growing from out of the skin.

The skin covers itself in skin. Skin is not skin.

Texture and text.



Knowing how to put it on without it

Is the acknowledgement

The acknowledgement of dis-closing, un-clothing

To forget, to make sense, to put it away

To look at it again, having not seen it for a while

Dead skin – the last before the skin of the skin

I dress it up, cannot give it away

Sense-making sense, wrapping, not uncovering

A discovery

Undress of the wound

Unwrap the curtailed, the curtained

Uncorpsing, dead instead

The unborn

The biographical

The self-eroding coast

Self-erasure under a sweaty cloth

Closure to being close, closer to being again



& morning

Repetition is the fundamental

because it does not suit the same way

because it does not suit the same thing

I am covered in it, discovered in it

This hairy uneven texture soaking in the sun

Self-involved, uncomfortable, expelling itself from itself

Spelling unanticipated

Overwriting the meantime

Accepting or not accepting the gift

Taking giving away for granted

Given to it

The unasked so the unquestioned.



Being absolutely famous for throwing the body away

repetition only has to be skin deep to make something by itself impossible



I do not dress myself

An address of acknowledge

To be addressed if how can I address

Closest to going away to be far enough away

As much as living to giving and having been-given everything

In it I give to live

Endless birthday wishes

Like Birthday wishing

No greater government to give itself away

To acknowledge itself in front of the other side of not knowing

A surface covered in clothes more real than the ones I wear


It opposes my gift with its own birthday wishing

Its own ossifying self-discovery

But I do not know this

It looks like me but I could not kill myself on its surface


It almost suicidally disbelieves in the distance of my death

But it cannot die instead of me

This is why we should always be wearing our clothes

To acknowledge the nudity of why it is done.

To make it that naked.

Of where it is done. Address of happy birthday

A forgotten day of an unforgettable time

Closing in on the dis-closure

Unskinnable. Unsunnable.

Unwearable, very worn.

Ossídio Gaspar

Post-definition Angst

My eyesight makes people uncomfortable.

The distance of the meeting is itself afraid of holding hands.

Beauty is ignorance of the back lighting.

One day I will go away for as long as I could ever stay home.

Means to individuate. Repeat society.

All these finite achievements of the way I cannot finish myself off.

I am one economy or the same name.

The independent achievement should be perfect disagreement.

I am looking for you in the corner after the first wall.

I must be whoever last expected me.

I am dialectically afraid of all the biggest monkeys of the mechanism. The uncrippled fauna.

I am no longer aware, not thinking what.

The sound barrier is the way of my name.

Distance is only an icon.

The fixions are austerities.

How many times could the first-person be mistaken for me?

Who is expecting me to show some sort of dominance in Difference?

Is not extra-nominal writing a fiction?

Obsession is hyper-meaningful death.

I go outside to get religious about life.

The spread of the internalisable is hyper-phenomenality.

Putting-together is exactly the same as its put together impossibility.

What rights do circumstances 1 through 2 have?

What plants the nexus? This is a question that asks: what supplants a nexus?

My greatest strength is an incompatibility.

Heat and hate.

I am told these stories as if I really understand the ending.

The dictionary is the Angst text.

Self-mastery is just better timing for masturbation.

The Family tree of Writing.

Every love I have known is an ocean in the sea of my forgetting.

Triangulations with a third. Triangular because, after two, everything is made-up.

Appetitive stone with its tongue fully erect. Satellites of my dead trying.

At the docklands a paper boat folded from memory lets on that there is a knack to waterworks.

A nose, at trace, lingering on the scent.

time plus reuse is trans-formation; reuse is trans-formation minus time

Reuse is a negative number.

I am only here today to defy what I might have said yesterday.

My things alike, I am something that I want.

I counter-explain all of my scenic understanding… this is the dramatization.

I am surrendered to the waste I generate.

I have informed you of bad souls and big rivers. What is left?

I have broken sympathetic and lost new and late and the same.

To whom am I obliged in this work still relentless, still remote, still not really taken to itself?

All of my principles are dead humans.

We have not yet understood what it means for disaster to be self-made.

I ritually smuggle through simultaneity.

No ideas are incompatible. Incompatibility is with people and popularity.

Everything here is a triangulation. The head is the pyramid.

In the way that the best and worst do not really exist, they are totally “striving”.

Presence is an indigestion.

The situation of the light arranges the dis-play of the window.

The window in the wall of my face to the interior of my staring monumentalism.

My monumentalism is totally face-value.

This is a re-cite-all and a re-site-ing.

If I am being clear, where is the shadow?

This year, I have found more names for the water.

I am bronze in the afternoon and sick in the even-ing.

The Mind is anatomy. The only thing that would consider putting the body together.

Your impression on me is my attention to being forever.

Further work is not always a democracy.

There are different people and different days.

I express for a country I have not yet inhabited.

Knowledge and experience are at war in the possibility of the same acknowledgement.

I get exactly what I want. Telling myself the contrary is exactly part of the experience of that getting.

My problem is that I see significant differences in the synonymous. This is why I am outside the dictionary.

A new work on Angst.