C - The Clairvoyante Not a cento, a poem made up of only lines from another poem. Not a golden shovel (that will be my post for G), which takes the last words of an existing poem and uses them as the first words in a new work. I have used some lines (shown in italics) from T. S. Eliot's The Wasteland , and added my own. It probably has a form name, but I don't know what it is. A type of found poetry at any rate. Madame Sosostris, famous clairvoyante, Had a bad cold, resulting in her predictions being “off.” No longer “ the wisest woman in Europe ,” her congested sinuses blocked the flow of information. “ Here, she said, Is your card… ” “But I’m sure it’s not quite right, “… this card… is blank .” She sneezes into her shawl, excusing herself with a smile, suggesting her shew stone instead. ... I am forbidden to see. She gazes into her ball, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. “ I do not find… de...
