iPoem · 8824.124.292.455 · Cent mille milliards

1The acid tongue with gourmet’s expertise
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone

5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave

9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes

12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
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 8824.124.292.455 (no. 794,266) was generated on September 22, 2026 at 12:37 am
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