iPoem · 2656.7403.263.187 · Cent mille milliards

1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4normal one aims to be and share the throne

5They both are right not untamed mutterings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave

9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress

12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14soliloquies predict great things old chum

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 2656.7403.263.187 (no. 796,851) was generated on October 12, 2026 at 10:09 pm
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