iPoem · 7050.6060.344.767 · Cent mille milliards

1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4that suede ferments is not at all well known

5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6signalling gauchos very rarely shave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave

9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11on wheels the tourist follows hos hostess

12Bard I adore your endless monologue
13and let you off from your opinions glum
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 7050.6060.344.767 (no. 795,552) was generated on October 9, 2026 at 12:22 pm
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