iPoem · 5347.6564.35.303 · Cent mille milliards

1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown

5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6filching the lolly country thrift helped save
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave

9Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can’t depress
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11watching manure and compost coalesce

12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
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 5347.6564.35.303 (no. 805,247) was generated on November 4, 2026 at 12:05 pm
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