iPoem · 5729.6692.142.259 · Cent mille milliards

1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2his exaltation shocked both youth and crone
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown

5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6rejecting ermine to become a knave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave

9Platonic Greece was not so talentless
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes

12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
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 5729.6692.142.259 (no. 804,622) was generated on November 2, 2026 at 9:37 pm
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