poem

 Anselm

According to the Copenhagen interpretation

Nothing exists except in a mind

That is paying attention

A wave function collapses

And suddenly it’s Sunday 

Morning and the smell of coffee

And the dawn chorus just outside

In the trees gathered like supplicants

On the edge of the frosted lawn. 

Close your eyes, disengage

And it’s a Holocaust

Of universes forever lost.

Continuity demands a witness

That stays up all night

Writing down every actualized possibility 

That emerges from the quantum cloud of probability.

Only God could make this possible,

This random life on a warm stone

Spinning pointlessly around 

And around, in the dark, toward nothing. 

And that’s the proof— ask Him yourself.

This one doesn’t want prayers 

Just pay attention.

9/12/24