1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown

5How it suprised us pale grey underlings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7th’outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave

9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes

12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
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 5987.3219.522.105 (no. 802,407) was generated on October 27, 2026 at 6:50 pm
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