iPoem · 887.6183.337.356 · Cent mille milliards

1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown

5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave

9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11from cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness

12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
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 887.6183.337.356 (no. 805,395) was generated on November 4, 2026 at 7:52 pm
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