iPoem · 2773.356.331.819 · Cent mille milliards

1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2his exaltation shocked both youth and crone
3the understanding critic firstly sees
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone

5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave

9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11socrates watched his hemlock effervesce

12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
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 2773.356.331.819 (no. 793,165) was generated on September 5, 2026 at 12:54 am
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