The Man from Goshen: Cowboy Poet Rod Miller

Interview by Stephen B. Armstrong

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Fifteen years at least have passed since I first met the affable Rod Miller. We were judging a cowboy poetry competition together in a dusty, hot barn in Kanab, Utah. Between the tourneying poets’ deliveries, I learned much from Rod, a cowboy poet himself, about this richly idiomatic, narrative-driven form. In mid-September 2024, the award-winning writer came to southern Utah to read his own verse at Book Bungalow, a delightful independent bookstore in downtown St. George. We caught up afterward.

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For those who don’t know, what is cowboy poetry?

Rod Miller: Cowboy poetry is, as the name implies, poetry about cowboys. It started as a folk art with working cowboys writing about the life that they lived and the adventures they encountered. The common wisdom is that it developed out of the loneliness that cowboy life often is. When you're riding circle out in big pastures or up in mountains watching after a herd of cattle, you're often alone, and you're alone with your thoughts. Cowboy poetry started as an oral tradition. Then it became a literary tradition. A lot of those old traditional poems would’ve been

lost if they hadn’t been written down. When writers started writing for the page rather than the campfire, that built up the tradition, establishing it further. Since the mid-’80s or so, cowboy poetry has become more of a performance art. A lot of the best cowboy poets are also excellent performers who write more for the stage than the page.

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What is it about the cowboy life that explains its enduring popularity?

RM: The cowboy is an icon of America. You can go to Japan, you can go to Germany, you can go anywhere in the world, and when you say “America,” cowboys are the things that jump out in a lot of people's minds. It's an emblem of America, the cowboy life. Even though most cowboys worked for someone else, they owned nothing probably but their saddle, but they could pick up and leave anytime they chose. It appeals to something in us here where we like to honor independence and freedom and going your own way.

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I met an Australian poet a while back named Carol Heuchan, a bush ballad poet. Her work expresses many of the concerns and themes that show up in American cowboy poetry. The emphasis on the harder aspects of rural life—weather, animals….

RM: There are many great poets in Australia who’ve been driven by the same things that drove cowboy poetry here: the pastoral life, being out with livestock, spending a lot of time alone, seeing the beauty of nature everywhere. “Waltzing Matilda,” which is kind of the unofficial anthem of Australia, is a bush poem. Banjo Paterson, who wrote that, also wrote “The Man from Snowy River.” He's one of the poets who’s inspired me. Banjo Peterson’s likeness appears on the Australian $10 bill along with the text of “The Man from Snowy River.” It’s a big, long poem, so

it’s in microprint. And Will Ogilvie, a Scotchman, spent a lot of time in Australia. He is a great

poet, too.

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You address rodeo often in your work.

RM: Rodeo is a sport that grew out of the cowboy life, so it's part of the cowboy tradition. It's a really rough sport. Every event is open to injury and requires a lot of physical skill and toughness.

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You’re an authentic rodeo cowboy yourself.

RM: I have a rodeo program tucked away somewhere from a little buckaroo rodeo, a kid's rodeo, which used to go around through Utah. I competed in that. My name is in the program. They had little ponies and little calves that would buck. I don 't remember offhand if it was 1961 or 1963, but I would've been nine years old or eleven years old. That was my first organized rodeo. We used to have little hometown rodeos, too, where we'd get on calves and try to ride them.

 

Where did you grow up?

RM: In a small town called Goshen in central Utah, right on the south end of Utah Lake. It's in a little valley all its own with two other small towns. There were just shy of 500 people. Most of them had outside jobs in town, but most everybody raised cattle, too. Cattle and horses were always a part of our life. My family raised cattle and horses. My dad was something of a shade-tree veterinarian who was really respected for his ability to train horses. We always had a few we were breaking and training for other people. My dad was also a roper, and he competed in rodeos and other horse events. I was always involved with horses and cattle and cowboys. That was just part of life in Goshen. It instilled in me a lifelong love of that kind of life. When I was in high school, I got more serious about rodeo. There was a bunch of us—we'd jump in a car once a week and drive down to a guy's ranch outside Levan, Utah, which was probably only 30 miles away from home. The owner was a rodeo cowboy and had some bucking

horses that he kept. We'd go down there and give the guy a little bit of money and get on his bucking horses. He'd try to help us perfect our technique. Later I went down to Las Vegas to attend a rodeo school, which was a more formal kind of thing than what we were doing back home. It was taught by Larry Mahan, who was at that time the top rodeo cowboy in the world. He was a World's Champion All-around Cowboy and a World Champion Bull Rider. Larry Mahan was the guy, the hero, for young cowboys like me. At his rodeo school, he gave us a lot of tips. We'd ride bucking horses, and he'd watch you ride and then try to help you understand what you needed to do to improve. That pushed me further. Then I went off to college and got involved with the rodeo club there at Utah State and eventually qualified for the rodeo team and traveled for a couple of seasons to rodeos all over Utah and Idaho, where I had some success. In the summer, I would go to professional rodeos and compete. I didn't have as much luck but always enjoyed the life, always enjoyed being with friends and competing and having a good

time. It was a part of my life that I really enjoyed and like to write poetry about.

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Rodeo is such a dangerous sport, but your takes on it are filled with humor.

RM: Getting thrown off a horse doesn’t seem all that funny at the time it happens, but later on it can be fodder for a good story. Rodeo cowboys sit around in the off hours telling stories about all the wrecks they've been in and all the crashes they've had and all of the injuries. it’s part of the game. You can't escape it. It may not be a serious injury. It may just be a lot of bumps and bruises and sprains and strains. But you're going to get hurt. To make light of that shows that you're tough, that’s it not a big deal. It’s a defense mechanism, a way of coping.

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Where can folks find your work?

RM: I have two collections of poetry. One's called Things a Cowboy Sees and Other Poems. The other collection is Goodnight Goes Riding and Other Poems. “Goodnight Goes Riding” is based on Charlie Goodnight and my imagining of his discovery of Palo Duro Canyon, where he eventually built a ranch and ran tens of thousands of cattle. It's how I imagined he might have discovered the place. Those collections feature a variety of forms and styles, with serious poems and humorous ones. I also did a limited edition chapbook, Newe Dreams, for an art house press.

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How about a poem for us?

RM: Sure.

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Rob opened a copy of Goodnight Goes Riding and Other Poems and read the following:

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Goodnight Goes Riding

 

He rides and he rides

Across so plain an expanse

That an anthill is an eminence

And a buffalo wallow a landmark.

And he rides.

 

Shortgrass stems nod in

Insistent wind, waving

Through more miles than he sees

As he nods in the saddle

As he rides.

 

As he rides,

The saddle stops rocking

And his eyes open to see

A maw in the Llano

Fall away from the forefeet

Of the horse he rides.

 

Raven wings silently

Slice the sky below.

Juniper green gashes

Its way down the canyons to

Sip at Prairie Dog Town Fork.

And he rides.

 

He rides a game trail

Off the caprock,

Wends past hoodoos of

Eroded Permian,

Imagining longhorns

Grazing under shaded

Mesas and mesquite.

 

Plants a ridgepole over a

Badger hole, nails up a door

And calls Palo Duro home

For himself and

A hundred thousand cattle.

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And he rides.

He rides.

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Thanks to Tanya Mills and Book Bungalow, “the literary soul of Southwest Utah”:

https://www.thebookbungalow.com. Rod Miller’s latest novel is Justice and Mercy (Speaking

Volumes, May 2024). Learn more about Rod here: http://www.writerrodmiller.com/.

This interview was edited for length and clarity.