Dig this Daddio:


America let who the is whose in with stanzas crates as armies!
johns, angelic Moloch a the Moloch night-cars, mind stumbled and rocks
& the tanked-up clatter of the wards of the skull no longer admit
where you scream in a straightjacket that you're losing the game of
the iron regiments the subway window, jumped in the darkness under
the bridge, and rose up to build harpsichords in their hearts


Seed me again

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