He wore a hatful of moonlight and in the daytime pretended to ignore the inconvenient coyotes trailing him through the streets, howling.
Savage! The savage savage savagely savaged the other savages for their refusal to act as pronouns, prepositions, or conjunctions.
Years later, she opened the book and saw the letters had slid off the pages and clumped in the gutter. She pieced together a new scripture.
The leviathan, hungry for prophets, swam in ever-widening circles and considered the ursine shore, the polar bear market.
The old astronaut in the tee box glanced at Cygnus. He was go for the black hole in one. It was a par 3.1555787×10e18, but he felt lucky.
These are originally posted on Twitter (@jdbrush). I’m trying to do one per day this month.