iPoem · 5943.2192.495.321 · Cent mille milliards

1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone

5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave

9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11watching manure and compost coalesce

12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
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 5943.2192.495.321 (no. 799,620) was generated on October 20, 2026 at 4:37 am
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