J.T. Whitehead

Nocturne No. 6

Even God Dances Nights. Beneath cloudy rafters,
before thousands of lesser stars, how composed God must be,
given our fireworks, flashing & invasive, like Paparazzi.


Nocturne No. 1

Eve of day, an Arab woman, walks behind men.
Night, an Arab woman, stares day in the back, avoiding eyes.
Night, an Arab woman, is hidden, wears a black veil.


Nocturne No. 2

Outside the house a circle of stone wall surrounds the court.
The stones shift throughout the weaving suburban wall
as slowly as rigor mortis creeps through a corpse.


Nocturne No. 3

The Moon is misty-eyed . . . in memoriam the Sun.
Calendars, as honest as propaganda, claim Spring has begun.
Cats, as honest as silence, do not lie.

{Poetry by J. T. Whitehead}