iPoem · 5372.1896.935.991 · Cent mille milliards

1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3the understanding critic firstly sees
4with cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown

5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave

9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11watching manure and compost coalesce

12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum

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 5372.1896.935.991 (no. 798,580) was generated on October 17, 2026 at 9:32 am
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