1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown

5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave

9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address

12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum

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 5129.6369.299.953 (no. 794,187) was generated on September 20, 2026 at 11:54 pm
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