iPoem · 145.5964.520.601 · Cent mille milliards

1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4the thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone

5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave

9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess

12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum

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 145.5964.520.601 (no. 793,108) was generated on September 4, 2026 at 11:54 am
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