iPoem · 8907.6127.578.349 · Cent mille milliards

1The acid tongue with gourmet’s expertise
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown

5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave

9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess

12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
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 8907.6127.578.349 (no. 802,090) was generated on October 26, 2026 at 8:47 pm
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