For decades, a certain photograph—I don’t know who took the picture—has been lodged in my mind of an ash-smeared, half-naked, crazed-looking man peering through a thicket of brambles in what might be called
The Wilderness of No God.
He looks tragically alone, bereft, cut loose from the comforting anchors of religious faith, and yet he seems surprisingly tranquil. In this collection, I have transcribed the poems—I think of them as songs—which I believe this man sings in the depths of his heart. Yes, his
Mystical Faith Exploded in the Midst of a Cathedral,
but after years of wandering, he has found joy, coherence, cohesion—his voice. I have titled this book
God: A Handbook for the Disbeliever
because I think of it as a comforting treasury of verses for all of us who travel this treacherous journey of life alone.