This poem is by Denis Johnson (July 1st 1949 - May 24th 2017)

upon waking

at the far edge of earth, night
is going away. another
poem begins. slumped over

the typewriter i must get this
exactly, i want to make it
clear this morning that your

face, as it opens
from its shadow, is more
perfect than yesterday; and

that the light, as it
hesitates over the approach
of your smile, has given this

aching bed more than warmth,
more than poems; someway

a generous rose, or a very
delicate arrangement of sounds,
has come to peace in this new room.

Source: http://bugthings.tumblr.com/post/14126536411

http://www.npr.org/sections/thetwo-way/2017/05/26/530182989/denis-johnson-author-of-jesus-son-and-tree-of-smoke-dies-at-67