iPoem · 3610.3397.313.159 · Cent mille milliards

1At five precisely out went La Marquise
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3the Turks said just take anything you please
4that suede ferments is not at all well known

5How it suprised us pale grey underlings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave

9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress

12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
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 3610.3397.313.159 (no. 800,689) was generated on October 23, 2026 at 1:58 am
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