iPoem · 2019.8866.612.338 · Cent mille milliards

1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3the Turks said just take anything you please
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown

5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave

9The genealogist with field and fess
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes

12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13the Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
14fried grilled black pudding’s still the world’s best yum

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 2019.8866.612.338 (no. 792,657) was generated on August 25, 2026 at 2:17 am
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