September 7, 1980 — Summary

In these lines, a speaker describes waking up almost as a compulsion: “Today I have to wake up because / tomorrow I have to wake up.” There is no present desire or purpose, only a chain of future obligations. The mention of “the geometry of a clock” makes time feel mechanical and circular, and the options the speaker expects—a circle or stones—hint at recurrence or death. Standing “out here with my palms up,” the speaker seems exposed, waiting, perhaps asking for something without knowing what. The line about being afraid of piety is striking: it suggests fear not of belief exactly, but of dutiful repetition, of performing devotion without meaning. The poem ends on the same incomplete reason, “because tomorrow,” leaving the speaker trapped in a cycle. The mood is quiet, uncertain, and quietly anxious—like waking to a day that only matters because another day will follow.