Dig this Daddio:


the roaring winter dusks of Brooklyn, who chained themselves to
subways for the endless ride from Battery to holy Bronx on benzedrine
them down shuddering mouth-wracked and in the darkness under the
Moloch! Moloch! Nightmare of Moloch! Moloch who entered my soul early!
Moloch in whom I am a consciousness without a body! Moloch who
frightened me out of my cottage in the roaring winter dusks of Brooklyn,
who chained


Seed me again

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