Word: knoxes
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...Knox has composed all but one of his poems while in the saddle, with the steady clip-clop cadence of the horse guiding the iambs and a simple rhyme making the words easy to remember. This is crucial, for cowboys tell poems; they don't recite them. They can be found preserving this oral tradition in a dusky bar or a seedy motel. Says Knox: "I've never in my life sat around a campfire and asked somebody to tell a poem...
...been known to tell them at the Black Cat bar, one of the two wateringholes in tiny Seligman, Ariz., with a longneck Budweiser in front of him. One recent night, after gently tapping some Bull Durham tobacco into his rolling paper, Knox pulled tight the yellow drawstrings on the pouch. He moistened the paper, rolled the cigarette, lit it. Then he leaned over the bar and, in a soft voice, recited an old Bruce Kiskaddon verse about the dangers of an enraged cow: "Think a cow boy cain't run? Well you aint seen one sail/ When a cow blows...
...little surprise that cowboys write poetry. Knox has spent hours in the saddle watching the south end of a herd moving north, with plenty of time to roll phrases around on his tongue. He is observant, a necessity for the writing of verse or the tracking of cows. Good poetry demands good drama, and that is no stranger to Knox either...
Five hours have passed since the riders left Twin Buttes. A hot autumn sun has burned away the dawn's biting chill, and the cowboys have gathered about 100 head of cattle from among the cedars and hillocks. Knox watches as they herd the cattle into a dusty pen. On horseback the cowpunchers separate five long-eared calves that escaped spring branding and guide them, along with their mothers and a few strays, into a smaller enclosure...
...Knox, one eye on the nervous mom, stands ready to throw a calf as soon as two twirling lariats snag it, front and back. When the ropes hit their mark, Knox dashes out, yanks the tail and upends the bawling animal. Before the dust can rise, Knox is on his knees, pinning a front leg back to immobilize the calf. Other cowpunchers burn the brand, vaccinate the animal and castrate it. No wasted motion, no unnecessary energy...