iPoem · 2158.9164.262.665 · 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
4while sharks to let’s say potted shrimps are prone

5It’s one of many horrid happenings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave

9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes

12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum

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 2158.9164.262.665 (no. 804,430) was generated on November 2, 2026 at 8:47 am
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