System of belief (2)
by Ethan Gilsdorf
[ poetry - march 08 ]
I am building a system of belief.
The girders shall be forged of inflexible principles.
The weight shall be borne on alternating columns
of promises and caffeine.
Ants shall be the history teachers.
A jury of award-winning mothers shall be the priests.
The membership shall be open to all of you,
provided you don't believe what you don't want to believe.
I am building a system of belief.
I shall shake the dust from the old gods,
buy them wholesale from Deities R Us,
a greatest hits package; an outmoded Odin, a rusty Thor,
a Hades, Jesus, Minerva, Isis, Vishnu, Elvis,
a bloated Jim Jones. I'd like an Aphrodite comeback.
The sound of my voice will be both onerous and fun.
I shall have no congregation. This I will accept.
My texts won't be so much holy as shifty, circumspect.
I am building a system of belief, so hang onto to the keys
to your former apartments, cars and bike locks,
for these shall be the keys to the afterlife.
We'll vote if there will be an afterlife.
There will be no money-back guarantee.
I am building a system of belief, without weapons or sin.
I assure you the system will show us how to hold still.
I picture a cosmology of checks and Libra-like leanings,
over-adjustments, wavering yess and reckless expressions of love.
What do you say, brothers, sisters?
Faith - Oh, dear lord, I have tried to trace it,
manufacture it, teach it, lie about being able to taste it.
This system of belief is grasping for answers:
an atlas, a dictionary, a compendium of anxiety,
an itinerant record of at least who we are today.
I am building a system of belief.
Won't you please join me?
