iPoem · 2132.194.256.649 · Cent mille milliards

1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4with cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown

5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave

9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress

12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14the best of all things to an end must come

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 2132.194.256.649 (no. 793,442) was generated on September 8, 2026 at 4:53 pm
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