iPoem · 7660.5464.931.385 · Cent mille milliards

1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3replies like this the dumbstruck brain may tease
4that suede ferments is not at all well known

5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave

9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11socrates watched his hemlock effervesce

12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
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 7660.5464.931.385 (no. 794,835) was generated on October 3, 2026 at 12:32 am
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