I will work blessings on this beat back broken girl of a dream the lexicon of hunger. I mean all of us. I mean stone sea’s a given give it more in this weather. I am here or you and we are not. What’s underneath a feeling is a debt of grey, limestone. Who even gives a blessing timely, all of the people we owe them. On their knees. Asking the other minister, the one with stature, for a cloud of time. Skeletal fragments of thought or coral in idea or mollusks made of matter. Make it. Can you see it. We made it. We’re only sleeping in cleaner sheets for a bit before we bring in the mud on our shins and fingertips. I’ll help your knees, though, with my own get down to simply pray for that crow digging in the plastic bag in the middle of the street in a mean eight degrees even if I don’t believe. What could she find. Always a find though, fatter and watch out this belly smaller than her petite pointed head. We make due. Justify. I mean fall asleep with that crow in a eye the head of making what apparent outside a window please to hear a bird at all. Or you do hear raccoons scattering in an attic, gathering their babies. Give the blessings and then ask for them back. Disappear a given a glove a mother. It’s only another. Needy palms. Need what and overrule this until tooth and nail detected. Sleep to the music of altitude of mountain I really made it once, large and sharp snow over it all. See it and shall. Weep the snow. Crush our nests.