1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
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
7the learning linguist cameramaniac sings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave

9Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can’t depress
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess

12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum

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 5587.142.90.395 (no. 806,291) was generated on November 6, 2026 at 11:10 am
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