Getting OnBy Robert L. Penick
When I was a kid there was no talk
of becoming a doctor, a lawyer, or even a lowly priest at some broken, backstreet cathedral. One had to get on someplace, some factory of stink and repetition, where any original thought was a sin. They were churches in their own way, purveyors of filth and tedium, where the faithful gathered each morning at 7:00 a.m., worshipped at the wheel of toil until noon, then took communion from paper bags in the cafeteria. Follow the dogma or begone. There was a ceiling that I could not see and it shut out the available light, the stars that I should navigate by, the roadmap that would have led me anywhere in the universe. I had only the sun, telling me It’s morning. Rise. Dig the hole. The poetry and prose of Robert L. Penick have appeared in well over 200 different literary journals, including The Hudson Review, North American Review, Plainsongs, and Oxford Magazine. The Art of Mercy: New and Selected Poems is now available from Hohm Press, and more of his work can be found at theartofmercy.net
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