iPoem · 5043.5560.627.217 · Cent mille milliards

1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone

5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6filching the lolly country thrift helped save
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave

9The genealogist with field and fess
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11from cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness

12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
14soliloquies predict great things old chum

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 5043.5560.627.217 (no. 809,372) was generated on November 14, 2026 at 8:05 pm
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