iPoem · 6090.323.280.147 · Cent mille milliards

1When one with t’other straightaway agrees
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4that suede ferments is not at all well known

5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave

9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10a bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess

12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14soliloquies predict great things old chum

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 6090.323.280.147 (no. 794,265) was generated on September 22, 2026 at 12:37 am
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