iPoem · 2854.63.669.428 · Cent mille milliards

1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone

5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6signalling gauchos very rarely shave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave

9The genealogist with field and fess
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address

12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14fried grilled black pudding’s still the world’s best yum

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 2854.63.669.428 (no. 793,008) was generated on September 2, 2026 at 3:07 am
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