iPoem · 2021.94.354.545 · Cent mille milliards

1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone

5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6signalling gauchos very rarely shave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave

9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11on wheels the tourist follows hos hostess

12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum

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 2021.94.354.545 (no. 793,078) was generated on September 3, 2026 at 7:22 pm
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