NaPoWriMo Day 6: True Art Is Incomprehensible

we do this again,
stain the cobweb
scrap dust mites off the glass
I am pressed against my reflection
the sky away perfection
of a sing sing song.

motions for sleep,
tired of the tired.
find value in junk mail
spambox of retirement
oh the deli wars of New Jersey
sink or fly mentality.

I am boiler-room rocket-ship,
milk bottle euthanasia,
a casual causality of account.

In the broom bristles
polyurethane fixtures
microscopic ridges collect
sweep, sweep.

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