iPoem · 5622.6407.671.197 · Cent mille milliards

1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4with cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown

5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave

9The genealogist with field and fess
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11socrates watched his hemlock effervesce

12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
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 5622.6407.671.197 (no. 803,504) was generated on October 30, 2026 at 6:56 pm
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