Dig this Daddio:


the yellow morning were stanzas of gibberish, who cooked rotten
animals lung heart feet tail borsht & tortillas dreaming of the Hudson
under the wartime be crowned with laurel in oblivion, who ate the
lamb stew of the soul illuminated its hair for a second, who crashed
through their minds in jail waiting for charm of reality in their ears
and the Staten Island ferry also wailed, and trembling before


Seed me again

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