iPoem · 1623.8293.325.211 · Cent mille milliards

1The wild horse champs the Parthenon’s top frieze
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone

5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave

9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11watching manure and compost coalesce

12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
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 1623.8293.325.211 (no. 797,892) was generated on October 15, 2026 at 1:02 pm
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