The Road and Other Liars is a collection of poems and vignettes, some like whispers, others like bruises, all orbiting the themes of wandering, memory, aging, and the aching hope for meaning. It’s not organized by topic, and that’s part of the magic. It reads like a life itself: fragmented, lyrical, surprising, sometimes funny, sometimes devastating. Miller doesn’t tell you how to feel; he just opens little doors into moments and lets you step inside.

I thought I’d be reading some quiet little poems about trees and dirt roads. Instead, I found myself slowing down, re-reading lines, and sitting in silence after certain pieces. There’s one about the moment a man realizes he’s outlived the kind of dog he could own again. That wrecked me. And the one where he imagines talking to someone, just one person, who could really, truly hear him without judgment? I’ve thought about that every day since. His writing is sparse but packed. No fluff. No pretense. Just raw, thoughtful truths wrapped in poetic stillness. Sometimes the poems feel like they were written in a dusty motel room at 3 a.m. after the kind of day that doesn’t let you sleep.

This isn’t a feel-good collection. It’s heavy in places. It’s a little haunted. But there’s also a weird comfort in how honest it all is. It’s like the book gave me permission to mourn things I didn’t know I’d been carrying around. There’s something deeply kind in the way Miller writes, even when the subject matter is brutal. He doesn’t lecture. He observes. He remembers. He wonders.

One poem that really stuck with me was “Squirrels.” It’s quiet and simple on the surface, a man watching squirrels from his window, but it hit me hard. There’s this quiet loneliness in it, the kind that sneaks up on you. He wants a connection, something to care for, but he’s also come to terms with the fact that what he really wants, a dog, a companion, doesn’t fit into his life anymore. The squirrels aren’t pets, they’re not friends, but they’re there. It says so much with so little.

If you’ve ever felt lost, or old before your time, or nostalgic for things that never quite were, this book might be for you. If you’ve loved someone and lost them, or wished for a quiet place to just be for a moment, you’ll find some of yourself in these pages. Not every poem hits with the same force, some drift by more quietly, but even the quieter ones add to the atmosphere of reflection and bittersweet honesty. It’s the kind of book you don’t just read, you sort of live with it for a while. It can be emotionally heavy, and you have to be in the right headspace for it. But when you are, it’s great.

Pages: 74 | ASIN : B086PFWWMQ