Dig this Daddio:


from lounged who you conform were worms free at fascist
impossible of eat to and fingers, to the daisychain or grave, notism &
were left with their who coughed on the catatonic piano the soul to
its body again from its pilgrimage to a room full of steamheat and
opium, cliff-banks of the sun rise, flashing buttocks under barns and
naked in the total animal soup of time and who


Seed me again

Thanks to Allen Ginsberg for HOWL, and Andrei Andreyevich Markov for an algorithm.