iPoem · 2747.8796.119.621 · Cent mille milliards

1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2his exaltation shocked both youth and crone
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown

5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave

9Platonic Greece was not so talentless
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address

12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
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 2747.8796.119.621 (no. 800,202) was generated on October 21, 2026 at 6:49 pm
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