iPoem · 2082.584.552.101 · Cent mille milliards

1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4with cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown

5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6filching the lolly country thrift helped save
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave

9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes

12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum

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 2082.584.552.101 (no. 806,553) was generated on November 7, 2026 at 1:03 am
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