iPoem · 5820.7417.249.569 · Cent mille milliards

1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4that suede ferments is not at all well known

5They both are right not untamed mutterings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7th’outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave

9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address

12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13and let you off from your opinions glum
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 5820.7417.249.569 (no. 796,447) was generated on October 11, 2026 at 8:38 pm
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