iPoem · 5052.7879.133.299 · Cent mille milliards

1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4with cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown

5They both are right not untamed mutterings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave

9Platonic Greece was not so talentless
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress

12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14the best of all things to an end must come

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 5052.7879.133.299 (no. 802,559) was generated on October 28, 2026 at 6:30 am
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