iPoem · 1653.300.330.386 · Cent mille milliards

1The wild horse champs the Parthenon’s top frieze
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone

5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave

9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess

12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
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 1653.300.330.386 (no. 801,810) was generated on October 26, 2026 at 3:03 am
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