What’s Your Pisces Season Poemscope?

by Emmalea Russo

We’re bringing each sign some messages and truisms for Pisces season, courtesy of BUST’s resident astrologer, Emmalea Russo. Catch her seasonal ‘scopes in BUST’s print magazine.


If you make friends with what ails you, you’ll get to swim in the waters of the most alluring sea and discover what you never thought possible. Heed the calls of your dreams. If you don’t already meditate, this month begs you to.


The best way to feel like you’re part of something is to be amongst humans. Kerouac’s “the only people for me are the mad ones” could also be “the only people for me are the ones who are people.” One option: To remember that all people are people, and to stay close to them.


This month will provide you with two of your favorite things: a megaphone and the Sun itself. You’re already a master of the hot take, but this month there’s something “nearer to vital truth” that you’ll want to speak into the light. 


You’re feeling, as Kerouac wrote, “the too-huge world vaulting you.” You get farther away from what’s familiar, adamant and unswerving as you vault into the unexplored with audacious perspective. Mercury reminds you that the same vast backyard awaits, so befriend whatever’s in the rearview.


The house of sex and death is like your winter home: hidden, baroque, and everyone’s wearing weirder clothes. Here, you party in a different way. Revelations will come regarding every taboo question you’ve been afraid to hold up to the light.


Your planetary caregiver, Mercury, has gone fishing. Still, you can see her. Still, you can hear her familiar reverberations redoubled back to your heart. They’re saying something about dissolving below the horizon — about separating from the Sun so that you and your winged messenger can do what you do best: gather info and deliver it with grace, wit, and hits of truth serum in the form of dark humor.


Home is just another word for the body, and the body is what your consciousness keeps returning to. A little pain here, a little pleasure there. What’s up with this earthly vessel? If you heed the call and care for it with verve and sweetness, it will be as pretty and as comfy as that midcentury sofa you’ve been eyeing.


You might start wearing leopard print this month, at least proverbially. All month you’re into bohemian hedonism and spontaneous creativity. It’s like you’re the lipstick the world’s wearing. Careful you’re not “so busy being cool that you forget the word love,” as Diane di Prima cautioned.


The past carries with it a certain weightiness that lately you feel on your back. You’re at the bottom of the sky, furtively sorting that shit out. Remember what Allen Ginsberg said about the weight of the world being LOVE. One option: Live in the O of LOVE and feel ethereal while hanging out at your roots.


You’re deciphering every kind of communique right now and re-learning how to use your own voice, supercharged by the ferocity of Mars, who’s a kind of longterm houseguest in your abode. How exactly do you want to translate what you know? And to what audience? A hint from Audre Lorde: “Without community, there is no liberation.”


You’re feeling, as Frank O’Hara said, “The clouds get enough attention as it is.” So you turn to the original art: the earth. And your vessel: the body. As you ground yourself, you become the hero you’ve been holding out for — spending all month adding proverbial coinage to your self-worth.


You’ve been, to quote O’Hara, “quietly waiting for the catastrophe of your personality to seem beautiful again, and interesting, and modern,” and this month, as the Sun illumines your command center, it does. It is. You are. As Mercury retrogrades through your lit personality — she drops bits of cosmic 411 waiting to be deciphered by you, specifically.

A version of this article originally appeared on Emmalea Russo’s Substack.

Top photo: a medieval depiction of the Pisces glyph

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