iPoem · 2150.2980.752.419 · Cent mille milliards

1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4that suede ferments is not at all well known

5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave

9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes

12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
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 2150.2980.752.419 (no. 801,655) was generated on October 25, 2026 at 4:47 pm
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