iPoem · 1944.961.265.249 · Cent mille milliards

1The wild horse champs the Parthenon’s top frieze
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone

5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive

9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11watching manure and compost coalesce

12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
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 1944.961.265.249 (no. 789,041) was generated on June 8, 2026 at 12:23 pm
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