iPoem · 3097.60.943.138 · Cent mille milliards

1At five precisely out went La Marquise
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown

5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6signalling gauchos very rarely shave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave

9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress

12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13the Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
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 3097.60.943.138 (no. 795,428) was generated on October 9, 2026 at 4:39 am
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