iPoem · 3017.410.940.411 · Cent mille milliards

1At five precisely out went La Marquise
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3the Turks said just take anything you please
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown

5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7th’outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave

9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess

12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum

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 3017.410.940.411 (no. 794,428) was generated on September 24, 2026 at 6:12 pm
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