Paganistan: Notes from the Secret Commonwealth

In Which One Midwest Man-in-Black Confers, Converses & Otherwise Hob-Nobs with his Fellow Hob-Men (& -Women) Concerning the Sundry Ways of the Famed but Ill-Starred Tribe of Witches.

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Horned Body

Say that He Whom we call the Horned is the sum total of animal biomass on Planet Earth.

Say that he is.

His body, then, is collective body.

Together we are him.

We live with his life. He breathes with our breath.

Every birth is his birth; with every death, he dies: in every moment, dying; in every moment, born.

He is male. He is female. He is both. He is neither.

He thinks as we think.

He does as we do.

He loves as we love.

One substance, one being, one body: divided within himself.


O Antlered:

my god, and my people's god,

to you, to you

I pour.




Above: Kyoht Ludeman, Horned God


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Tagged in: Horned God Horned One
Poet, scholar and storyteller Steven Posch was raised in the hardwood forests of western Pennsylvania by white-tailed deer. (That's the story, anyway.) He emigrated to Paganistan in 1979 and by sheer dint of personality has become one of Lake Country's foremost men-in-black. He is current keeper of the Minnesota Ooser.


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