iPoem · 3047.6487.637.197 · Cent mille milliards

1At five precisely out went La Marquise
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown

5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave

9The genealogist with field and fess
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11from cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness

12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
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 3047.6487.637.197 (no. 806,695) was generated on November 7, 2026 at 10:48 am
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