rocky rickaby (lackadaisy) created by tracy j. butler
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  • “Old Man River!

    That seems far too austere a name
    For something made of mirth and rage.
    O, roiling red-blood river vein,
    If chief among your traits is age,
    You're a wily, convoluted sage.

    Is "old" the thing to call what rings
    The vernal heart of wester-lore;
    What brings us brassy-myth made kings
    (And preponderance of bug-type things)
    To challenge titans come before?
    Demiurge to a try at Avalon-once-more!

    And what august vitality
    In your wide aorta stream
    You must have had to oversee
    Alchemic change of timber beam
    To iron, brick and engine steam.

    Your umber whiskey waters lance
    The prideful sober sovereignty
    Of faulty-haloed Temperance
    And wilt her self-sure countenance;
    Yes, righteousness is vanity,
    But your sport's for imps, not elderly.

    If there's a name for migrant mass
    Of veteran frivolity
    That snakes through seas of prairie grass
    And groves of summer sassafras,
    A name that flows as roguishly
    As gypsy waters, fast and free,
    It's your real name, Mississippi.”

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