It’s true that John Colburn is an Aquarius—how could he be anything else? He even has an Aquarius moon, meaning the moon was new when he was born, its comma just barely flanking the shadow of the sun. Quite the opposite of last night’s full moon in Virgo, which if you haven’t yet go out and gain yourself some moonshine there’s still time. Virgo—–the nurse, the vestal virgin, the hearth keeper, the fact checker, alchemist even.
The Sabian symbol for this Virgo full moon: “A Girl Takes Her First Dance Lesson.”
Imagine Invisible Daughter taking her first dance lesson. I can imagine it. John Colburn can imagine it, wishes he’d seen it. Invisible Daughter in the nape of the woods off Old Stagecoach Road, sidestepping Thought-Eating Man. Grass spirits air-burdened & humping across a spate of prairie until their legs dissolve in the mud.
Our comrade Peter Richards calls this geography “an unsettling and gently self-contained world,” which might also describe the present situation in Pisces—–Virgo’s opposite sign, upon where the full blast of this pregnant moon aims its spotlight. And John Colburn is not only a Pisces rising, but his sun and moon are found in the 12th house of his natal chart, and Venus, Mercury, Saturn, Chiron, and his Part of Fortune were all transiting the sign of Pisces at the moment of his birth. Mercury’s in Pisces now—–stationed retrograde, since Saturday (yay, just in time for AWP!)—–as are many other planets including Pisces’ (and John Colburn’s) rulership, Neptune. Our world is awash in oceanic feelings, we’re up to our gills in cosmic amnion. Chunks of pope and towers disperse like sediment, like lochia, into the gutters of prehistory. Some colossal birth, we sense, must be immanent.
“I love the sense the reader has of being frequently conceived in this book,” says Peter Richards (a Cancer, clearly comfy moon-merging on the high seas). “I love how it explores the different ways it wants to be beautiful [Venus], and then creates those ways [Saturn]… You’re alive in the mind now seeking the Invisible Daughter. Her whereabouts are complicated, perpetual, and ominous in the way the future seems ominous to the past.” Or, in terms of the Pisces revolution to which these arks we’re building are in most holy and beautiful service, how ominous the past now seems to the future. But we’re alive and undulant in the psychedelic glamor mind of Neptune—–
In darkness surprising words appeared in our minds. I felt I needed
speech therapy or white hair, I felt seductive and deep. As if I knew
where a star might shine. I hoped we could leave time or break the
arms of spirits and watch them grow back. I hoped for sleep easing
its calm under our tent, dense dreams like pomegranates. Long ago
a new part of earth had thickened underwater and now we stood
on it. Dinosaurs had dreamt here and left tremors. Maybe tomorrow
we would have powers, maybe we would disappear into the woods
like ingredients. Older Brother stared into the forming pool. Our
blue air turned one shade bluer. Fireflies lit up a natural stairway,
creek to ridge, all limestone. We knew the devil never made trees
and I touched the vibrating trunks, studied the ridge, a tight waiting
entered our dimming camp, a preoccupation. I told Older Brother
I saw spirits inflating and delivering their own bodies, it was hard
to explain. I told the trees and creek, the crayfish under their rocks,
and either it was true or I wanted deliverance from truth. Would
I know if I lit up? I thought betrothed, engulfed, saturated, confidential,
lapidary. Strange words.
& Invisible Daughter is here to help us cleanse the pater-smear and tower-rubble from our horizon as daughters rise up in droves from the mist to lead us to our first post-patriarchal dance lesson. And as we all know, a revolution without dancing is not a revolution worth having. Namaho!
More hype tomorrow on other ghost girls and their wet lands.