iPoem · 7844.6921.590.821 · Cent mille milliards

1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone

5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive

9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess

12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum

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.
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