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.