not much to say this week except there’s not much to say. not much to say this week except i still love you. not much to say this week except there’s a rhythm that i had, once, and when i had it all i could think about was how lucky i was to have it, and then i lost it. not much to say except i love the word rhythm for its “thm” at the end, its utter refutation of the regular rules of english, and did you know that “dreamt” is the only word in the english language that ends in “mt” ? not much to say except i want to keep all the words in the world inside my arms, like noah and the animals and the ark. not much to say except i no longer believe in god anymore. not much to say except i wish i believed in something, or could have reason to believe in you, but you don’t call anymore and i don’t even know who i’m writing to at this point. that’s a lie. i’m always writing to you. i’m always hoping you find a patch of sunlight to live your life from. i’m always praying that i’ll have something to pray to again one day.
not much to say except i’m still sick over the genocide. not much to say except i still want to die when i think about the earth. not the earth, as it is / was once, but the things we’ve done on it. the things we’ve done to it.
not much to say except i wish i had something to say. not much to say except i wish i could have tried. you could have at least let me try.
ladies & theydies & everybody else — your fake horoscopes, and a (real) poem to go with it.
aries (march 21st-april 19th): being dehydrated isn’t a good enough excuse for terrorizing the people in your life. drink real water. make some mushroom broth. get your shit together, respectfully, so that you can spend your time doing the things you were actually meant to do this time around.
for aries — “if you aren’t busy i think i’m on fire” by wendy xu
taurus (april 20th-may 20th): you will never find what you are looking for so long as you ask everybody else to stop looking for what they are looking for and look at you instead. if you see a rabbit, that means you need to develop a harsher kick. if you see a lamb, maybe it’s time to nuzzle down.
for taurus — “highway 90” by linda gregg
gemini (may 21st-june 20th): you are a ghost, haunting everybody who loves you. unfortunately, you don’t actually love them back. you love colors, and the hard rubber balls you get in the gumball machines for a dollar’s worth of quarters. use what you have in your pockets already. a well timed shot can render your enemies incapacitated, made of rubber or not.
for gemini — “goodtime jesus” by james tate
cancer (june 21st-july 22nd): however many times you tell yourself that it’s going to be different this time, the problem of reality remains. focus less on what falling in love with someone might do for you and more on the fact that you’re going to die and go to a place where nobody wants to listen to all your halfhearted excuses.
for cancer — “morning, one” by rod mckuen
leo (july 23rd-august 22nd): ego and fame be damned, you just want someone to love you! and worship you. and text you constantly. and brag about you to their friends. and write long glowing love letters and even longer glowing reviews for the new york times. well, fuck the new york times. call your grandmother, or another random old lady in your life. there are better places to put your attention than your own self image.
for leo — “prayer” by galway kinnell
virgo (august 23rd-september 22nd): unfortunately, you are still mostly boring and anal. fortunately, in a world where everything is on fire, sometimes boring and anal is exactly what someone wants to come home to at the end of the day.
for virgo: “resolution #1,003” by june jordan
libra (september 23rd-ocobter 22nd): while you’ll never have the childhood you think you want, you do at least get to decide what to wear to your own funeral. knowing how to turn an event into a party is a skill that can change your life. ask one of the fire signs how to do it, and then hire them to come along and give everybody else the old razzle dazzle.
for libra — “poem #1692” by a.k. ramanujan
scorpio (october 23rd-november 21st): just because you think you’ve found your next lover doesn’t mean this next lover feels like they’ve found you. stop pouting on public transit, scorpio. nobody thinks you look as mysterious and interesting as you think you look.
for scorpio — “blessing the boats” by lucille clifton
sagittarius (november 22nd-december 21st): whenever you see a doorway this week, consider what the world would look like without one. whenever you see a sunset, consider what you would do to paint yourself into one. whenever you see your reflection, consider what you would look like if you were actually happy and not just pretending to be for everybody else’s sake.
for sag — “soundbox” by angie macri
capricorn (december 22nd-january 20th): you’re supposed to learn how to paint with oils. you’re supposed to learn how to sing in pastels. you’re supposed to be becoming a real human person, but you’re so focused on proving how right you are all the time that you barely even qualify as real anymore. let the shadows guide you to your next bath. let the world make itself realer than you usually let it.
for capricorn — “tin bucket” by jenny george
aquarius (january 21st-february 18th): go dumpster diving with a loved one this week. rescue a rat off the street. test the limits of where your physical body ends and your spiritual body begins. when the light starts to tremor around your hands, place them onto someone you love. let them put their hands over yours. let them guide your touch to where it needs to be.
for aquarius — “the antique store poem” by dalton day
pisces (february 19th-march 20th): you say you want something good, but when it’s in your hands do you know what to do with it? start with the breath. start with your feet on the earth. start with a worm, and a compost bin, and a wave of petrichor underneath the grass sea.
and for pisces — “feeding the worms” by danusha lameris
i am not good at ending things.
but things have to end anyways.
see you again next week.
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