1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3the understanding critic firstly sees
4the thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone

5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave

9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10what things we did we went the whole darned hog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress

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 7875.1790.403.385 (no. 803,901) was generated on October 31, 2026 at 10:23 pm
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