iPoem · 2029.603.630.61 · 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 empty cages show life’s bird has flown

5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6rejecting ermine to become a knave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave

9The genealogist with field and fess
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess

12Southern baroque’s seductive dialogue
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 2029.603.630.61 (no. 806,393) was generated on November 6, 2026 at 3:47 pm
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