iPoem · 5037.8996.577.726 · Cent mille milliards

1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown

5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave

9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11from cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness

12Bard I adore your endless monologue
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb

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 5037.8996.577.726 (no. 801,885) was generated on October 26, 2026 at 8:06 am
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