He stood, sweating, gazing over the vastness of what looked like nothingness; hot, glaring, monochromatic landscape, broken only by an occasional dune. His eyes batted against the stinging bits of sand encircling his head as He tried to catch His breath. He was, after all, Jesus in a mortal body. He was hungry. He had …
Imperfect
I sat, submissively. You stood, towering. You, the PhD. Me the struggling artist. My thumbnail kept picking at the edge of the nail on my index finger. My writing hand index finger. Odd. You told me my poem was "okay," but it was not perfect. So what, then, it was imperfect? Faulty? Flawed? Defective? Unsound? …
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Face
I thought I could hide my face; that outward declaration of what I am thinking, or who I truly am inside. I stand at the bathroom mirror, not thrilled to catch my eye. See those two vertical lines between my eyes? This is an indicator of just how hard I am on myself. I have …
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Friend
Friend, that person who, despite what it costs them, will take Responsibility for your well-being by Insisting that you prepare, plan, and contemplate Every move you're going to make before you dash off, Neglecting to look for the unexpected Dilemmas that wait along the road. Steven Barto ©2016
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Logan’s Outlook
He towers tall over his tiny kitten, sitting in his power chair, Simply smiling, sentient, all but savvy, Knowing how happy and blessed is he; Bound to his chair, yet free; intelligent enough to win a spelling bee. Packed to the top of his brain with stats, Possessing the soul of a global travel brat; …
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The Accidental Apologist 