Cubist Emotions

-a dispatch from the grief process

I wrote in the last post

seems grief gets worse before it starts to get better…

like a slow motion fracture across the emotional landscape

it’s like these internal earthquakes happen with a memory or thought…

not predictable…

my hands start to shake

I call this feeling Cubist emotions.

The Сity - Fernand Leger

Fernand Leger “The City” (1919)


Things at angles

and broken

sliding apart

damaging frictions



Writing desk - Olga Rozanova

Olga Rozanova “Writing Desk” (1914)


the measure of the words

does not equal their weight

in spilled ink










Umberto Boccioni “Nocturne” ( 1911 )


The night leans over

renders everything lopsided

view of myself as alien in an alien landscape

I hear the neighbors on the balcony

words in no known language

where is this?


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