iPoem · 7807.6190.295.986 · 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
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown

5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave

9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11watching manure and compost coalesce

12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb

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 7807.6190.295.986 (no. 794,247) was generated on September 21, 2026 at 7:42 pm
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