iPoem · 8843.6660.661.133 · Cent mille milliards

1The acid tongue with gourmet’s expertise
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone

5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6rejecting ermine to become a knave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave

9The genealogist with field and fess
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11socrates watched his hemlock effervesce

12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13the Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum

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 8843.6660.661.133 (no. 791,460) was generated on July 30, 2026 at 11:15 am
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