1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2his exaltation shocked both youth and crone
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4while sharks to let’s say potted shrimps are prone

5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave

9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes

12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
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 5738.8869.552.615 (no. 789,245) was generated on June 10, 2026 at 11:17 am
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