iPoem · 5301.6196.670.913 · Cent mille milliards

1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone

5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave

9The genealogist with field and fess
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess

12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
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 5301.6196.670.913 (no. 789,726) was generated on June 20, 2026 at 10:31 pm
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