iPoem · 7091.7794.145.361 · Cent mille milliards

1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone

5They both are right not untamed mutterings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave

9Platonic Greece was not so talentless
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11watching manure and compost coalesce

12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13and let you off from your opinions glum
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 7091.7794.145.361 (no. 800,267) was generated on October 21, 2026 at 11:16 pm
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