iPoem · 2406.804.242.169 · Cent mille milliards

1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4normal one aims to be and share the throne

5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave

9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes

12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13and let you off from your opinions glum
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 2406.804.242.169 (no. 789,656) was generated on June 18, 2026 at 11:19 pm
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