August and the Day of 8

For the past several years I’ve written down my dreams, some of which are conversations that carry on for hours. In the first few minutes following waking I try my best to transcribe these ramblings, but they’re never coherent and weren’t meant to be. This collection of riddles and numbers came from a dialogue with Odin/Merlin, who exist as one and the same on Planet Amanda Dreamworld.

August and the day of 8, 2010 to start, 2011 to end. Set your clock to tremble. Eyes wide and ever chattering, blinking forehead wink. Will you rise orange like the cloud-splitting sun?

27 and the month of 8

9 to carry the 9

10 fastened to the 26

and 8 to follow

(29)

The 6, the 6, 10 and 26

Shake and erase – all emptied.

Listen well on august and the day of 8

when the final petal falls and summer surrenders and silver staff splits antler stands and ash covers the dust. Goodbye, kentucky fried. a single boom chased by a rumble confused as thunder turns all eyes skyward before the scream. Don’t hesitate to point the finger. A single A points to B. Ear to track for coming train. Did you feel it vibrate so close to your ear? Do you hear the whistle? Wet finger to sky, testing air. Nothing can prepare you.

Listen for the laugh track tumbling from the bumbling mouths of bookstore prophets. All skull-capped and rocking, tearing fingernails, waiting for the right question for the answer. He’s never been asked. He’s never been asked.

Ask him.

There’s no place to begin pacing. There’s no center to this stone. There’s no smell to trace this memory. There isn’t a map. There was never a map. Just a spiral and patterns in sand.

Pulled in from skyward glances. This is the bait. Do you see it dangling?

Call your glamours home. There’s no gateway to hold your linger. No tank for what would have been. There’s only boarding, seat 23A.

Stop waiting for your watery home.