iPoem · 1073.6362.721.939 · Cent mille milliards

1The wild horse champs the Parthenon’s top frieze
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3the understanding critic firstly sees
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone

5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave

9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11socrates watched his hemlock effervesce

12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13the Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
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 1073.6362.721.939 (no. 796,367) was generated on October 11, 2026 at 3:09 pm
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