iPoem · 2843.6969.364.943 · Cent mille milliards

1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone

5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave

9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11on wheels the tourist follows hos hostess

12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
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 2843.6969.364.943 (no. 796,472) was generated on October 11, 2026 at 9:58 pm
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