Son of Msippi

Up from Msippi I grew. (Bare walk and cane stalk make a hungry belly talk.) Up from the river of death. (Walk bare and stalk cane make a hungry belly talk.) Up from Msippi I grew. Up from the river of pain. Out of the long red earth dipping, rising, spreading out in deltas and plains, out of the strong black earth turning over by the iron plough, out of the swamp green earth dripping with moss and snakes, out of the loins of the leveed lands muscling its American vein: the great Father of Waters, I grew up, beside the prickly boll of white, beside the bone-filled Mississippi rolling on and on, breaking over, cutting off, ignoring my bleeding fingers. Bare stalk and sun walk I hear a boll-weevil talk cause I grew up beside the ox and the bow, beside the rock church and the shack row, beside the fox and the crow, beside the melons and maize, beside the hound dog, beside the pink hog, flea-hunting, mud-grunting, cat-fishing, dog pissing in the Mississippi rolling on and on, ignoring the colored coat I spun of cotton fibers. Cane-sweat river-boat nigger-bone floating. Up from Msippi I grew, wailing a song with every strain. Woman gone woe man too baby cry rent-pause daddy flew.