The Rest Is Silence <br />By Reid Baer <br /><br />O, I die, local leaders and turncoat brothers; <br />As I am still, from your potent poisonous pen <br />That quite o'er-crows my spirit: I cannot live to <br />Hear the news from Reidsville where we began our own <br />NWTA weekends ten years ago … <br />But I do hereby prophesy with my blunt sword <br />Held to your neck: the dying of the whole body <br />When with your faltering attempt to stifle one <br />Voice that remains – that voice shall make gains and go out <br />To more men rather than less - and shall be reborn <br />A Wild Man unabated on the Internet.
