robert creeley (part iii)

Every Day

Every day
in a little way
things are done.

Every morning there is
a day. Every day
there is a day.

Waking up in a bed
with a window with light,
with a place in mind,

to piss, to eat,
to think of something,
to forget it all,

to remember everything,
perfectly, each
specific, actual detail,

knowing nothing,
having no sense of any of it,
not being a part of it,

all right for you,
all right, you guys—
echoes, things, faces.