iPoem · 2653.6405.330.844 · Cent mille milliards

1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone

5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave

9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess

12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14in cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?

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 2653.6405.330.844 (no. 798,506) was generated on October 17, 2026 at 4:00 am
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