iPoem · 2307.1300.961.569 · Cent mille milliards

1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown

5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave

9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11socrates watched his hemlock effervesce

12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14the best of all things to an end must come

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 2307.1300.961.569 (no. 804,845) was generated on November 3, 2026 at 11:00 am
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