iPoem · 5505.9100.949.382 · Cent mille milliards

1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4the thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone

5It’s one of many horrid happenings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave

9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address

12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
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 5505.9100.949.382 (no. 807,213) was generated on November 8, 2026 at 9:03 pm
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