iPoem · 2057.6774.651.98 · Cent mille milliards

1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown

5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave

9The genealogist with field and fess
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11socrates watched his hemlock effervesce

12Southern baroque’s seductive dialogue
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
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 2057.6774.651.98 (no. 791,175) was generated on July 24, 2026 at 9:36 am
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