Something from the notebooks. This is a woods poem that never made the cut.

Validation

Where can I get this ticket stamped?

The one that says I have arrived.

Been searching for the desk in the crowded lobby

But everyone is indifferent, not sure I have been here.

I am looking for anyone who will tell me this life is meaningful

Confronted with evidence I remain skeptical.

My husband humors me these things.

These words scribbled on the page.

My voice,this song ,the notes that I play.

“Is my verse alive?”

Do these words sing?

How can I thrive

When I don’t know anything?

String together the things I half remember.

Forgotten dreams and souls dismembered

the soul crushing weight of the world

The day to day inconveniences

The things I have to hold

The things that need to get done

Permission slips signed,bread kneaded rising, laundry folded

Did I give the dog his meds?did I take mine?

And I wonder what’s the significance of

Of my ramblings and recriminations

Of my samplings and explanations

Whose word could I trust?

The ones I look up to covered by dust?

I want you do be Virgil.

Calm and reassuring me I haven’t lost my way.

Bc I feel like a fake each and every day.

I’m not sure I can live with it

So I retreat to a corner of my mind

Where I know you and you tell me it is fine.

I am in love with a projection of you that doesn’t exist.

And what I am looking for slippery to slick to hold onto

Bc the applause always fades and its just another day

And I wonder to myself do I ever get my say?