not Silence

Other times I don't hear the silence.

I hear the roughage of tin-can center-fugues
                     Of James Joyce sawzall snow

The orchestra of self-distraction...

Silence

I don't often hear the silence anymore, which is odd because most everything is.

This morning walking back to my car, I heard it between the birds, my own two feet and my keys.

It was padding silence, an old friend I meet from time to time.