iPoem · 2014.6729.493.265 · Cent mille milliards

1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3the Turks said just take anything you please
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone

5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave

9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress

12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum

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.
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