What is the late November doing
With the disturbance of the spring
T.S. Eliot, Four Quartets
Today the moon’s full in Scorpio. The ancients said the moon is fallen here. She’s home in the womb waters of Cancer and exalted in springtime Taurus, where our sun currently resides. The moon craves nourishment and growth, and the autumnal sign of Scorpio offers a tougher kind of love—heavy metal, Martian, internal, foreign, swampy. November wrinkling spring. Fallen light that gives way to other knowledge, nocturnal and cold.
This full flower moon at the high middle of Spring: roses and sun and skull and crossbones. Lunar hardcore. I am, quite frankly, sick of Substacks, my own included. So, I’m doing something I haven’t done in a while—horoscopes, to mix things up, refresh. Horoscope means hour marker. May the scopes below mark your hour and light the weird way as the moon wanes in the days to come. I’ve written them under the influence and with the help of T.S. Eliot’s Four Quartets, a hallucinatory poem that I return to in matte gray, eh moments. Maybe the moon, mixed with the seasonal mania of Eliot’s long poem, its necessary madness, will tell us what’s next.
This feeling—being sick of it all, yearning for a break, or some writing that breaks through the everyday, like the gift of breath and clarity-confusion at the end of a line of poetry. Line breaks and breaks with reality. Why do poetry? Cause it changes you in subtle ways, works on the soul through unexpected merges and breaks. Some lines from Eliot’s Four Quartets:
Neither plenitude nor vacancy. Only a flicker
Over the strained time-ridden faces
Distracted from distraction by distraction
How FLICKER hangs over the faces, the distractions—dangling and becoming sculptural. The sky’s flicker is Mercury, poet of the zodiac, and she’s walking through Taurus, at the mercy of Venus, given to slowness, earthiness. Like, be bold but don’t rush. The Taurus-Scorpio axis is fully lit up, reaching a kind of peak. The hot orange poppies in the backyard are at their orange maximum and beginning to shed their petals. Little drops of fluorescent blood floating on green. In the Taurus-Scorpio axis, we meet the darker sides of spring and the bountiful, surprisingly nutritive portions of underworld waters.
The moon, silver and strong, stronger and tougher than solar gold, sees here what the hell she’s made of, and with her, our emotions and daily habits, how we move and what we crave. The moon is our daily bread.
Below, horoscopes for you, for this emotionally turbulent and surreally hopeful full moon in Scorpio. I wrote them in a trance-like state while looking at today’s chart and reading Four Quartets. I suggest reading for your sun and rising signs, though many may apply—-