iPoem · 8029.468.500.982 · Cent mille milliards

1The acid tongue with gourmet’s expertise
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown

5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8the nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave

9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10what things we did we went the whole darned hog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess

12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum

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 8029.468.500.982 (no. 799,450) was generated on October 19, 2026 at 5:34 pm
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