Night Dreams And Morning Work Poem by John Tansey

Sun sets into self-delusion
stirring the synapses
from a steaming cup of coffee
and under a dimly lit oil lamp
Shrouded in saffron
casts the room in amber hues
imbuing words as gold
formed in an Alchemic art


Sun rises, dispelling dreams
out of every fold of darkness
to a sterile whiteness
that turning back, such ingots
into leaden blocks of stone
wakes me, both bleary-eyed
and blood-shot into this
Failed, pale bleak truth of morning



John thomas Tansey