iPoem · 5955.6705.958.719 · Cent mille milliards

1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4the thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone

5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave

9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess

12Bard I adore your endless monologue
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
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 5955.6705.958.719 (no. 798,784) was generated on October 17, 2026 at 10:56 pm
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