Taurus (April 20-May 20): If it didn't sound so sterile, I'd compare the renewal you're now going through to the winding up of a reliable old clock. Another apt but slightly dehumanizing metaphor: You're like a drained battery being charged up at a service station.
How about if we leave it at this: You resemble a field that's been left fallow. Though nothing useful's growing, the nutrients in the soil are regenerating, restoring all the exhausted fertility.
Gemini (May 21-June 20): First those durn American entrepreneurs had to go to Paris and erect one of their god-awful Burger Kings on the elegant Champs Elysees. Soon they'd blighted the streets of the French capital with Pizza Huts and TGI Friday's. Now, finally, the nation that perfected the art of faux food and inane architecture has proposed the final insult: a new McDonald's in the building where Picasso and Modigliani once bought their paint supplies. Heroically, a sizable gang of native stalwarts has stood up and declared its undying resistance to the encroachment: Just as you must do, dear Gemini, in the face of an analogous infringement from a source that has already pushed you too far. It's time to draw a line in the sand -- or the carpet.
Cancer (June 21-July 22): My best poetry teacher, Lynn Luria-Sukenick, once suggested that every poet should learn to identify by name at least 40 flowers, 30 trees, and eight clouds. All these years I've felt guilty for not having acted on her wise instruction. This week, in honor of the never-too-late-to-begin energy pouring down on all us Cancerians, I plan to remedy my procrastination. I urge you to do the same. Jump-start the crucial soul-work you've put off forever.
Leo (July 23-Aug. 22): In the aquatic stadium, I saw the killer whale gently kiss the 9-year-old girl. Later, I fought to adjust to the elephant's corkscrewing spine as I rode the beast around a circular track. In the butterfly sanctuary, I welcomed the swallowtail that landed on my shoulder, even when it deposited a tiny, graceful poop. But of all the creatures at Marine World, one dazzled above all others: a strikingly bewitching, perfectly coiffed, charisma-oozing redhead in a white suit -- obviously a Leo in full, rampaging glory -- striding down the promenade, leaving a wake of gaping onlookers. I was of course too awed and intimidated to approach this gorgeous animal and introduce myself, but if I'd been braver I would have said, "Is it really in your best interest to awe and intimidate everyone?"
Virgo (Aug. 23-Sept. 22): Virgos are famous for having exotic maladies. You folks wouldn't be caught dead suffering from a mere cold or stomach flu. You insist on contracting things like archaic bacterial infections that no doctor has treated since the 18th century. Likewise, when your mental hygiene goes sour, it generates symptoms that only a magical realist novelist could dream up. Now cut out the message you just read, and burn it. I decree and predict that your reign as a fascinating sickie is over. With the expansive planet Jupiter in your House of Joy Luck for the next four months and the energizing planet Mars gearing up to cruise through your House of Vitality for five of the next 10 months, you have the best chance ever to dissolve your chronic health problems.
Libra (Sept. 23-Oct. 22): The Hindus have a holiday in February called Maha Shivaratree. It's considered to be a time when the moon has the least sway over human affairs; when celebrants can enjoy relative freedom from their instincts and the past. I regard the coming days as a comparable phase for you Libras. In the wake of this week's new moon, you'll have a bellyful of power to create your future out of nothing but your own smartest desires.
Scorpio (Oct. 23-Nov. 21): Are you one of those people who subscribes to the school of thought captured in the bumper sticker that reads, "The more people I meet, the more I like my dog"? If so, this'll be a gnarly, dog-eat-dog week for you. Schmoozathons are in your future, sweetheart, and you'll be engaged with the theme of networking one way or another -- whether it's by building vibrant new connections with friendly panache or by burning bridges with an arsonist's fervor. For best results, I suggest you teach yourself to like people more than dogs.
Sagittarius (Nov. 22-Dec. 21): It'll be an excellent week to perform psychic surgery on yourself, to revolt against all the ways you've been typecast, and to wander off into the Outback and play didgeridoo for the dingos. On the other hand, It won't be such a good time for you to try curious experiments you've been warned against by three or more people. On the other other hand, if just one or two folks have tried to dissuade you, go right ahead. (P.S. If you haven't stolen time yet for a vacation, or if your wanderlust is still throbbing, escape immediately!)
Capricorn (Dec. 22-Jan. 19): It's an excellent time for retreads and reruns, as well as for substitutes and stand-ins. The second chances that come your way this week will probably be far more inviting than they were the first time around. The lost opportunities of last month will become so thoroughly found that you may ultimately be glad they slipped away from you back then. You know the instruction on the back of your shampoo bottle? "Lather. Rinse. Repeat." Apply that heady metaphor to everything you do.
Aquarius (Jan. 20-Feb. 18): What an oxymoronic week! Hope you're in the mood for sweet 'n' sour paradoxes, because there'll be more than enough to swamp the logic-loving parts of your brain. At the top of your list of delicate challenges will be something I like to call tender rivalries and humbling triumphs. If you navigate those OK, you'll get the chance to commune with selfish gifts, lonely cooperation, and sacred profanities. If you prove yourself worthy for still more, you may even be lucky enough to experience useful sadness and risky comfort. The best way to respond to all this abracadabra is of course to become a hopeful contradiction yourself.
Pisces (Feb. 19-March 20): I hate to say this to a lyrical lover like you, but you've been too damn responsive for your own good recently. At least temporarily, you could really benefit from having a thicker skin, a higher boiling point, and a slower trigger finger. If there was any such thing as an Insensitivity Training Session, I'd beg you to enroll. In lieu of that, I'll ask you to work on perfecting your poker face. Stare into a mirror and practice showing absolutely no emotion at all. Remember, this is all for emergency use, and just for the immediate future. When the crisis of intensity is finished, please return to your previous state of touchy-feely tenderness.