1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone

5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave

9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10what things we did we went the whole darned hog
11socrates watched his hemlock effervesce

12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb

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 824.269.901.156 (no. 809,415) was generated on November 14, 2026 at 10:54 pm
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