This Post Is Not Addressing You

This poem is not addressing you,
no matter what you think.
It is the sound of someone talking to himself.
—Tony Hoagland, “This Poem Is Not Addressing You”



So, apparently, I’ve started a blog.
That’s right—a blog.
Which, if we’re being honest, feels a little like saying, “I just bought a fax machine,” or, “I’m really getting into MySpace again.”

But here we are.

This space—Notes in the Margins—isn’t meant to go viral or to gather followers or to become a brand (God help us all if that ever happens). It’s really more like what Hoagland described: someone talking to himself. Except I’m doing it on the internet, which, come to think of it, is maybe the most human thing imaginable.


—

This poem is not a sign of affection,
or a symptom of malice or contempt.
Nor is it a confession.



This blog isn’t a cry for attention. It’s a siphon—somewhere for the overflow to go.
Because my brain, like an overzealous barista, just keeps pouring long after the cup is full. Thoughts about religion. About leadership. About parenting. About politics—not really politics, but the human stuff that politics keeps tripping over.

Sometimes, I need to dump all that out before I can get back to the things that actually matter—like leading an agency, being a dad, or figuring out how many ways one person can forget their coffee on top of the car.


—

You may look up from your reading with a small, bemused smile,
as if to say, “So that’s what’s going on with him.”



You’re welcome to read along if you’d like.
You don’t have to agree with me—hell, I hope you don’t always agree with me. Disagreement is how we grow, assuming we can manage it without being jerks.

That’s my part of the deal: I’ll stay honest, reflective, and (mostly) respectful.
Your part? Bring curiosity. Or, if that’s too much to ask, at least bring silence.
Otherwise—respectfully—feel free to fuck off.


—

This poem is not addressing you
but if it were—
you would probably know it.



And if anything here does feel like it’s speaking to you—if you recognize a bit of yourself in the mix of reverence, sarcasm, and unfiltered musing—then maybe it is addressing you after all.

But really, it’s mostly just me, trying to make room in my own head.

Welcome to the margins.