1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4that suede ferments is not at all well known

5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6signalling gauchos very rarely shave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8the nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave

9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11watching manure and compost coalesce

12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14the best of all things to an end must come

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 5540.8008.545.159 (no. 807,077) was generated on November 8, 2026 at 12:34 pm
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