iPoem · 6823.6297.319.581 · Cent mille milliards

1When one with t’other straightaway agrees
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone

5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave

9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address

12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
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 6823.6297.319.581 (no. 803,512) was generated on October 30, 2026 at 7:37 pm
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