Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, ARIZONA POEMS: 5. THE FUEL VENDOR, by JOHN GOULD FLETCHER


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

ARIZONA POEMS: 5. THE FUEL VENDOR, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Up and down and up and down
Last Line: Beyond a grave which no one heeds.


Up and down and up and down,
Through the stony uplands every day,
Where the dark blue peaks dream far away,
Beating my donkey with a stick
I go;
To gather fuel for the town,
Strips of dead greasewood, twisted, grey --

Where on the windblown edge of a cliff
Yellow crumbling walls look far below,
As they did centuries ago;
When the Spaniards in their helmets
With the banner of the cross
Rode along;
There I stop and break my fast.
There dried onions and two pieces of bread,
From a rag tied to my belt,
And I drink
From the wicker flask,
Daubed with yellow pitch outside,
Slung at my donkey's shoulder.

Up and down and up and down,
In the afternoon, through the streets of the town,
Beating my donkey with a stick,
I go.
And the long rambling lines of houses,
With grey plastered walls,
Hear my calls;
"Oyo, legno!"

My life is a stony plain,
In which I gather twisted sticks;
The heat and the strain
Of hunger ever watching me,
The rose-and-opal mystery
Of the silence;
And the peaks like great black altars of death
Against the scarlet of the evening.

And after
There will come a deeper silence,
Broken by wind's laughter
As it rattles a rickety worm-eaten cross
Amid grey moonlight falling like ashes.
And the flight of pale thistle seeds,
And the coyotes yapping somewhere afar off,
Beyond a grave which no one heeds.





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