1The acid tongue with gourmet’s expertise
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4while sharks to let’s say potted shrimps are prone

5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave

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

12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13and let you off from your opinions glum
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 8048.1307.590.465 (no. 791,730) was generated on August 5, 2026 at 1:05 am
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