iPoem · 108.6359.622.289 · Cent mille milliards

1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4while sharks to let’s say potted shrimps are prone

5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave

9The genealogist with field and fess
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes

12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
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 108.6359.622.289 (no. 799,558) was generated on October 19, 2026 at 11:58 pm
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