iPoem · 7683.9383.345.325 · Cent mille milliards

1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone

5It’s one of many horrid happenings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave

9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11watching manure and compost coalesce

12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
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 7683.9383.345.325 (no. 795,699) was generated on October 9, 2026 at 8:45 pm
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