iPoem · 2021.6101.695.356 · Cent mille milliards

1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone

5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive

9The genealogist with field and fess
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11watching manure and compost coalesce

12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb

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 2021.6101.695.356 (no. 798,878) was generated on October 18, 2026 at 4:08 am
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