iPoem · 956.6477.639.461 · Cent mille milliards

1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4normal one aims to be and share the throne

5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave

9The genealogist with field and fess
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address

12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum

Based on Raymond Queneau’s A Hundred Thousand Billion Poems, The 100,000,000,000,000 iPoem is a non-commercial artistic project inspired by Queneau’s work and the tradition of literary variation it inaugurated.
→ iPoem 956.6477.639.461 (no. 797,621) was generated on October 14, 2026 at 6:48 pm
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