Short Cubical Poems

Well managed cubical piece
Rolling around on the floor
Looking like a perfect die
Landing on the One

Russell Sivey...

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In my cubical I sit 
Strapped to perform the task for which I’ve been programmed
Molded to their way of thinking

In my cubical I sit 
Twist tied in place behind this acrylic screen
A window to those who consume others like me

So we sit in our air tight cubicles
performing task not of our own making

By Robb A. Kopp...

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Locked, the fourth floor’s doored cubical
Inside the ghosts are lined up saying ‘hi’
Never is there goodbye: no living/leavin’
Did fear entrap? Is it power of the mind?
And who is to say, within, is not Nirvana...

Long roads taken, to nothing at all...
Entangled internals that never flee...
Eternity so vast; a door shut, finite.

(9/7/20: '05 Beneteau 373; KKMI)...

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Oblong,
curved,
rectangular,
squared,
circular,
spherical,
hexagonal,
cubical,
and traingular,
these were and several others,
the shapes,
of millions,
of partitions in my memory,
I was looking to fit ideas of shapes similar,
but fits were far and wide,
I needed to stock likes and alikes,
but all lay strewn,
harried and troubled,
I had to admit,
that I had an unfurnished mind....

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we r at the picasso exhibition
i love him studied him
the naked art now
here
going through periods
blue pink delving into
cubical geometry
of figures violins
my heart is leaping with
joy
gigantic voluptuous
art on marie teres
crying sharp vagina of
dora
they were cracking jokes
we were beginning to finish
my heart is full and i was weeping
they asked me
who is picasso
your father?
i cried harder...

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