iPoem · 5327.190.189.2 · Cent mille milliards

1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown

5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave

9Platonic Greece was not so talentless
10a bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address

12Southern baroque’s seductive dialogue
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum

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 5327.190.189.2 (no. 791,513) was generated on July 30, 2026 at 11:06 pm
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