Monday, January 9, 2012

Morpheme. Does every poem contain at least one morpheme?

Nonsense, you say. But don't say uncle.


In cooking, it's olive oil heating up and ready for what comes next. Olive oil is never unwanted.
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1 comment:

  1. sgang123January 14, 2012 at 8:51 AM

    Person enters stage left,
    embraces our hero and they exit.
    A trail of white petals
    flutters from the fruit tree.
    Up above, she sees her new hope,
    a face in the window,
    a wave goodbye.

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