march poetry horoscope

by Nathan Moore

Aries March 20 — April 19
If you leave the house with an industrial magnet hidden under your hat this week, you could lose your footing when the bus arrives. The fates are sending you messages on street signs. If the “Don’t Walk” sign flashes your name in Morse code, you might want to step into traffic. Don’t.

Taurus April 20 — May 19
The only grease you can stand to eat this week is that of the soul. Do not act as if this is inflammable. And, whining about lubricant isn’t apt to lessen the friction. The gears are grinding on your conscience. Really. Now you may weep with the “deep fryer” and tremble with the “funnel cake.”

Gemini May 20 — June 20
OK. While in a blue funk, you decide to sell yourself to Cirque du Soleil. And now you wear a sequined leotard to the bank and hang from a silk ribbon every night by your teeth. Well, you’re cured. Nevertheless, life isn’t all gasping crowds. You may be double-jointed but your memories move in a single direction …

Cancer June 21 — July 21
Are you going to hold on like a praying mantis on the side of a freight train? It’s up to you to realize that not all words rhyme with “faster.” So, as soon as you embrace the disaster and master your fear of cuttlefish, you might want to chew when you eat.

Leo July 22 — Aug. 22
You will loosen the links of your leash on Monday to accommodate the rearrangement of the furniture. Accordingly, you leap from carpet to couch. In fact, some of you posses the patience to climb nearly to the ceiling from a point on the windowsill. So, I hear that you nap on a futon and your dinner plate does not have a “utensils” next to it.

Virgo Aug. 23 — Sept. 21
Let me sketch how you may feel restless, as if carnivorous plants were nibbling at the backs of your knees. Because this sensation is “groundless,” you can’t explain the vegetable oil to your spouse, only that you must wear it. Fortunately, on Monday, the vinyl upholstery finally arrives. Now you can sit without being still.

Libra Sept. 22 — Oct. 22
Why go on a pilgrimage to the poetry workshop? You can’t present your villanelle without someone screeching “help!” or picking at their toenails. You wonder if you can skip every other word or apply florescent paint to your body? Now? Nobody understands your use of the word “the.” Still, it should be useful to remember where you parked the car …

Scorpio Oct. 23 — Nov. 21
If you spare yourself the task of alphabetizing your enemies list until this weekend, you will find it a life — affirming exercise. Especially if you decorate the document with stickers that smell of pine and the ocean. Perhaps this organizational spirit, combined with an abdominal tattoo of a roadmap, will be able to help focus your overall project …

Sagittarius Nov. 22 — Dec. 20
Helicopters and rainwater will be your constant companions this weekend, by noon on Monday, the sky will clear everywhere but over your street. But, this week your laptop requires an exorcism. Right now you insert willow twigs in its USB port and massage it with sesame oil. In terms of direction, you may not be “oriented,” but gravity only pulls one way.

Capricorn Dec. 21 — Jan. 18
It’s time for you to learn a lesson: rub yourself with sea salt and translate “The Grapes of Wrath” into Esperanto. What’s the use of dressing the dining room chairs in formal wear if you’re just going to sleep in the basement? May as well coat the neighbor’s minivan in petroleum jelly instead of asking her goat to the movies. Plus, it gives you an excuse for sitting in the driveway.

Aquarius Jan. 19 — Feb. 17
You may think you’re growing gills and you stenography is flawless, but if you’re having email conversations with yourself, you’ll soon understand you’ve been recording your actions on YouTube. This should be you. Instead of wandering in front of a camera, try installing solar panels on your bike helmet. You’ll earn the admiration of pedestrians and no one has to be horrified.

Pisces Feb. 18 — March 19
Melancholy is wandering through your living room like a bear on roller skates. You’re lathered for the shower whether you need to be washed or not — so you may as well groom yourself for postcards. I guess now we rinse and wonder why soap costs so much more than pasta …

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.