iPoem · 8574.263.102.943 · Cent mille milliards

1The acid tongue with gourmet’s expertise
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3the understanding critic firstly sees
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone

5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave

9Platonic Greece was not so talentless
10what things we did we went the whole darned hog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes

12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum

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 8574.263.102.943 (no. 808,608) was generated on November 12, 2026 at 6:00 pm
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