Sometimes I try belief like a hat,
tilting to see how things appear
under a brim. Run my finger
along the edge of a hollow & stride
through sullied alleys
haloed by faith. Sometimes
I rest on a hard bench with the atheists.
Darwin & Marx, Simone de Beauvoir.
We consider the transcendent hand
of evolution. The siren song of paradise.
Goethe drops by to say if there’s a god,
it’s time to review the plan.
Avisaurus fly in & out of my dreams.
For every answer, a thousand questions
expand as our time on earth recedes.
I sing in the shower.
Janis & Aretha join me
in the space between words.
Aretha looks divine in her feathered hat.
Image: “Wedding Hat Feathers” by Judy Dean, licensed under CC 2.0