iPoem · 5039.2310.660.59 · Cent mille milliards

1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown

5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7th’outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave

9The genealogist with field and fess
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess

12Southern baroque’s seductive dialogue
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 5039.2310.660.59 (no. 793,813) was generated on September 14, 2026 at 11:18 pm
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