Six Sides To Every Thought Poem by Nika McGuin

This free-form college collage
houses the school of thought
concepts, they shimmer above us
coated in tangible flickery blue
glitchy boxes that beep at each new entry
we co-writers, and this our sci-fi movie

Naught but sketches initially,
six ill-shapened visages, hexigonal in nature
but he, seated lax atop his desk,
directs them, molds them thoughtfully
in a series of deft taps and shifts
he creates a hovering diagram,
the hexahedrons hesitantly gather, linking up

Those of us unwilling to share ideas
are simply dragged along nodding dumbly
and that's well enough
for most days I'm altogether reticent,
nodding with the best of them
but on today, I startled myself
my mouse-like voice that forgot to squeak
instead shook loudly, split ground, shattered silence
It was my finest collection of cubes yet, to be sure
even so, his boxes are always bulkier,
infinitely broader than this cubicle in which we reside
and each roll of his dice reads: box cars
that too is well enough
in fact, all is as it should be,
otherwise the telekinesis wouldn't work,
we wouldn't compose so many bluesy notes
of flickering quadratic matter