iPoem · 5628.6387.521.763 · Cent mille milliards

1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4while sharks to let’s say potted shrimps are prone

5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave

9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11socrates watched his hemlock effervesce

12Bard I adore your endless monologue
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum

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 5628.6387.521.763 (no. 807,905) was generated on November 10, 2026 at 7:56 pm
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