iPoem · 2047.3900.150.102 · Cent mille milliards

1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown

5How it suprised us pale grey underlings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave

9Platonic Greece was not so talentless
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess

12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum

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 2047.3900.150.102 (no. 805,421) was generated on November 4, 2026 at 7:52 pm
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