january poetry horoscopes: a perfect misunderstanding

by Nathan Moore

Capricorn, Dec. 21 — Jan. 19
A rotten cell phone connection could make this a perfect misunderstanding. You believe talking for the sake of communication is essential as you are in the midst of a delusion concerning your voice. Nevertheless, in order to chat through machines you should remain out of the vicinity of strangers who want to steal your larynx. Static is a language. Call me.

Aquarius, Jan. 20 — Feb. 18
Apocalyptic signs emphasize the sense of doom you’re feeling about what you need to do with your empathy. Whether to snuff out your sadness, your compassion, or some combination of the two is the crucial question. For now, all you have to do is decide what you’re wearing to the party and which affect you’re going to eat. You can swallow that, can’t you?

Pisces, Feb. 19 — March 19
After years of having the same face in your mirror, you are yearning to change the scenery. For those of you who know what to do — brighten an eye, or pull hair out of a nostril — congratulations. You enjoy the look of shaved eyebrows, but you’re hesitant to replace them with carpet. Now you just have to decide what you want your forehead to do when you blink.

Aries, March 20 — April 19
Certain business cards in your blazer pocket require attention from the hypothalamus. A message from the pineal gland scratched on your sleeve suggests this is a good time to hide in the attic. Send poems over the street into the minds of your neighbors; and/or consider the efficacy of a bull horn. Cancel the notion of publication and learn intense concentration instead.

Taurus, April 20 — May 19
Social issues are easy to avoid this month. And, since you are not springing fully formed from the center of an ostrich egg, you may as well stop being aloof and irritable with your other identities. For the next six hours, enlist a neighbor who can help you arrange shower curtains and web cams. No more inner conflict during long hours spent indoors — how simple is that?

Gemini, May 20 — June 20
Even the shiniest doorknob should be cleaned with an alcohol wipe before tasting. Don’t allow your sense of proliferating bacteria keep you from giving the bus window a curious lick. Nibble a stapler, savor the gas station’s cash register, or sip a spoonful of puddle water. You know what they say, “You can’t dance if you don’t take your shoes off.”

Cancer, June 21 — July 21
I know you want to make anatomically correct origami figures for your literary dioramas. Those of you who are skilled enough to recreate scenes from Madame Bovary may want to consider the connection between those intricate folds of paper and certain plot points. Time to start creasing that corset.

Leo, July 22 — Aug. 22
The big dilemma is that your cousin (the weirdo) gets pleasure from secretly cutting other people’s hair in movie theaters. This could bring anything from a police investigation to a lawsuit from beauty parlors and barbers. My answer? OK, since you begged: Use your influence with city council to get an ordinance protecting rogue collectors.

Virgo, Aug. 23 — Sept. 21
While searching the library for instances of lurid coin scholarship, you compulsively finger the change in your pocket. You may have to squint, but the face on the dime is salacious. Look again. If you continue your research with no results, go back to the reference librarian in your raincoat.

Libra, Sept. 22 — Oct. 22
The microwave oven has a malevolent leer that would intimidate the bravest cook at dinnertime. However, before you process all your food in the blender, consider that migratory birds will move into your kitchen on Friday and remain there for the rest of the season. Start toasting those cheese sandwiches under a warm goose.

Scorpio, Oct. 23 — Nov. 21
You get well-deserved recognition for your contortionist skills this weekend when a news crew joins the shouting fans and armed guards in your front yard. So, figure out what you want to say with your foot in your armpit before the media becomes saturated with your image. Meanwhile, a moth is trying to land on your eyelid.

Sagittarius, Nov. 22 — Dec. 20
The sea water in your can of shaving cream can cause your heart to palpitate. Because of this, you ought not to collect groceries from sunken ships, play with bullets from ancient battlefields or bathe in yellow mustard. And even then, your toiletries should avoid the usual health hazards: candied fruit, soap and drywall screws.

Nathan Moore is community director and columnist for Read Write Poem. In his spare time, he plays with his children and with fire. Never at the same time. He blogs at Exhaust Fumes and French Fries.