iPoem · 5600.403.26.631 · Cent mille milliards

1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4that suede ferments is not at all well known

5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave

9Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can’t depress
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress

12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13the Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum

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 5600.403.26.631 (no. 806,420) was generated on November 6, 2026 at 5:44 pm
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