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The pub is crowded. I sit alone
with a stranger and a friend's finished drink.
I want to talk, to listen, but silence
is easier.
In New York, silence
responded to a woman's scream.
The silence of the hundreds
who heard.
Silence producing somewhere, sometime,
a man whose psyche is distorted
from listening only to the
voices within.
The earth destroyed by silence,
mediated by the impetus of
this man who is not opposed.
Silence is with him.

Paul Hogsten

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