iPoem · 7099.273.520.562 · 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 empty cages show life’s bird has flown

5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave

9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess

12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum

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 7099.273.520.562 (no. 803,329) was generated on October 30, 2026 at 7:51 am
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