SWIFTLY or slowly,
after every solution and
reshuffle, I keep winding
up to the good old first layer
Of the Rubik’s cube
thus and so, swiveling
the edges and corners,
solving it pseudo-ad infinitum.
Vis-à-vis, cease-
less from the seeming
monotony, the mind and
its fingers tinker with poetries
Written in continuum,
read with maneuver-
ability, discerned through
millions of permutations,
Those of which that
are much obliged to be
spun, unpuzzled, lathered,
rinsed, repeated—Rubik’s cubed. Nikko Miguel M. Garcia
