1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone

5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave

9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess

12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
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 91.192.298.419 (no. 795,939) was generated on October 10, 2026 at 11:23 am
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