iPoem · 5873.6692.369.111 · Cent mille milliards

1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3the understanding critic firstly sees
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone

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

9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address

12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum

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 5873.6692.369.111 (no. 791,941) was generated on August 8, 2026 at 2:49 am
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