iPoem · 8137.9393.275.995 · Cent mille milliards

1The acid tongue with gourmet’s expertise
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown

5It’s one of many horrid happenings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave

9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11watching manure and compost coalesce

12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
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 8137.9393.275.995 (no. 791,789) was generated on August 6, 2026 at 8:45 am
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