iPoem · 5333.463.475.4 · Cent mille milliards

1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone

5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave

9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11watching manure and compost coalesce

12Southern baroque’s seductive dialogue
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14in cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?

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 5333.463.475.4 (no. 801,235) was generated on October 24, 2026 at 1:03 pm
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