iPoem · 5901.8177.51.991 · Cent mille milliards

1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone

5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave

9Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can’t depress
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11socrates watched his hemlock effervesce

12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
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 5901.8177.51.991 (no. 808,381) was generated on November 12, 2026 at 2:01 am
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