iPoem · 7802.750.231.393 · Cent mille milliards

1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4with cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown

5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave

9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11socrates watched his hemlock effervesce

12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum

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 7802.750.231.393 (no. 793,196) was generated on September 5, 2026 at 12:57 am
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