iPoem · 8920.9789.262.329 · Cent mille milliards

1The acid tongue with gourmet’s expertise
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4that suede ferments is not at all well known

5It’s one of many horrid happenings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave

9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes

12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
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 8920.9789.262.329 (no. 808,818) was generated on November 13, 2026 at 7:35 am
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