iPoem · 2521.8352.271.293 · Cent mille milliards

1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone

5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave

9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11socrates watched his hemlock effervesce

12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum

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 2521.8352.271.293 (no. 798,433) was generated on October 16, 2026 at 10:53 pm
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