The Truth About Tigers

I didn’t mean to write about a room, but that’s what I ended up writing about, along with jazz records, Batman, a snarky record store clerk, and a few other small detours.

Hi, friends. I wanted to share a few Collaborature updates in one place. Editor Melissa Lemay featured Mad Dark Winter Sky, a short poem my daughter Phoebe and I wrote together a few years ago when she was nine. We made it using those little word magnets you can rearrange on the refrigerator to form sentences. Melissa also invited me to serve as the guest judge for the… Read more: A Little Collaboration Goes a Long Way

The mask becomes your face—a shell you never meant to keep,carved to coax a voiceout of the natural quiet that was always yours. In small, obedient gesturesyou built your own confinement,grasping for the thing that kills,just to vanish a while longer. There’s a kind of magic in it—to disappear in plain sight,to fold yourself beneaththe weight of expectation— while the machine cranks outbillion-dollar death campaignsdisguised as joy,as… Read more: Quiet Compliance (1,000 Days Sober)

Compared to my 50-year-old self, I’m kind of an idiot. I know this because I’m currently 45. When I was 40, I thought I had a pretty good grasp on life. I knew I didn’t know everything, obviously, but when I look back at where I was five years ago, it feels like that guy didn’t really know what he was talking about. Of course, he knew… Read more: On the Illusion of Arrival

When I first set up The Truth About Tigers, it was supposed to be strictly a poetry site. A place to write poems, share them, get feedback, and hopefully get better. Simple enough. Lately, though, I’ve realized I’ve got stuff scattered everywhere. Substack, Medium, social media, a couple of blogs I’m about to delete, and a handful of random files floating around on my MacBook and in Google… Read more: A Small Housekeeping Update (That No One Asked For)

Some nights the work is just to listen. The page can wait. The mind still gathers, and even silence can be practice. And yet sometimes that silence drives the hands anyway and a few words spill out, maybe the mind’s way of making sense of the stillness itself. There’s a version of me that I really like. He’s the kind of person I want to spend time… Read more: On Not Writing: Some Nights the Work Is Just to Listen

It’s not pleasure, not really. More like the absence of pain, the way a tooth feels fine until the ache returns and you realize how good fine can be. Most days, I move through life on autopilot, not noticing fine at all. I think maybe that’s the case for most of us. I only recognize it when something starts to hurt. When my back twinges, the way forty-five-year-old working-class… Read more: Good Enough

“You’re sick of the game!” Well, now, that’s a shame.    You’re young and you’re brave and you’re bright.“You’ve had a raw deal!” I know — but don’t squeal,    Buck up, do your damnedest, and fight.It’s the plugging away that will win you the day,    So don’t be a piker, old pard!Just draw on your grit; it’s so easy to quit:    It’s the keeping-your-chin-up… Read more: The First Poem I Ever Memorized

This year,the bluebonnets feel like distractions—a velvet curtain pulledover something beginning to fray. In the rearview,she hums with Billie Eilish in her headphones,her face still round with youth,but beginning to learn its angles. I worry.A queer kid in public school,growing up in a statethat tilts harderwith each new bill. While those at the topswing hammers at federal protections,local extremists finally see their opening. She catches me watching.I… Read more: The Road Ahead

Hey friends and fellow poets! Just a quick note. I’ve been helping set up a new poetry site, The Chaos Section Poetry Project, and we’re currently looking for submissions. The theme is anti-authoritarianism—mostly U.S.-focused, but open to global perspectives too. No payment, just a space for poems that speak to the moment. I know the focus is pretty specific and I don’t want to assume anyone’s politics, but… Read more: Anti-Authoritarian Poetry Project: Open for Submissions

by Phoebe and Nick Allison Fluffy pink unicorns dance on rainbowswhile long-lashed dogs wear flowers like fur.Soft green Yoda-lights sway overhead,framing my second-story windowwhere moonlight spills onto the bed,silver-casting quiet shadows. I drift,carried across a calm sea of sleep. At dawn, I wake in a brighter room—its sharp light hums like a secret.A blue shark swimsacross a storm-tossed whiteboardbefore the bed floats gently downa river of tile.… Read more: Magic Doors

Hello, friends. Another New Year’s Eve has arrived. The weather couldn’t have been better—65 degrees and sunny, with a light north wind. I spent the day visiting the Austin Zen Center, taking a walk along Lady Bird Lake, and enjoying a cup of coffee at Civil Goat on Guadalupe, where I wrote this short poem. Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read or… Read more: Happy New Year (Make Friends with the Fallen Leaves)

If you happen to be in or around Georgetown, TX, I’d love for you to check out Lark and Owl Booksellers. This independent bookstore isn’t just a cozy spot for book lovers—it’s also home to a vibrant literary community that celebrates emerging voices. I’m happy to share that two of my poems, The Gender Inequity of Sidewalk Superstitions and International Cheetah Day, are featured in their very first literary journal, Kindred… Read more: Support Your Local Indie Bookstores! (Two Poems Published in Kindred Characters at Lark and Owl Booksellers)