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


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