Ossídio Gaspar

I am not in control of the seasons

You are not here

It is not here

They are not here

I am here.


Things ending

Things never started

So things begin again.

The difficult days







My change

My stasis

My distance

My year,


From every first time of it

Up to the next thought of it

There has been this third, unthought,

Known for a weather’s weather,


Again – as it was

I have been – outthought

By the change of change.

Ossídio Gaspar

Separations of Two is One

It disappoints because I am disappointing

And I am not yet disappointed

To scandal but it was non-scandalous

The distance is its own agreement.


A back to back all the way round fit

The body turns like a clock

I live at first sight before the hour

And then pushed by every second gaze every second past it


Organisation turns in the head

Adjustment for no foresight not uneven

Since back and head not both ahead

I turn myself in because I cannot look out


It is before me and I am home only after

It takes the same time not to go back

I turn around and this does nothing

It has been waiting for me to turn out again.


I am disappointed because it is disappointing

And I am not yet disappointed

To mourn but it is non-morning

The separation is its own fulfilment.

Ossídio Gaspar

2 short works on moving away

About those I look like

I am on occasion the occasion

A water despite the ocean

That weathers on the face

And speaks only whence the ocean.


An ocean within the ocean on the ocean

When I name I speak louder than the sound of my name

I speak it on my own

How only everyone else knows it.


I speak to myself about those who know

And then I speak to them in the morning

As the sun dawns outside what was clearly yesterday

On the evening of a face on a face again.



On the hypothesis of knowing a place

I may be closer to thinking than could thinking get me any closer to where I am.

I may be closer to where I last thought than to when I last thought I would be here.