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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Baby Jesus, Baby New Year, Baby Cupid

 

The year ends with a baby.

 

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The year begins with a baby.

 

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The year waxes with a baby.

 

Meanwhile, in the sky, the Young Sun—Savior, Aeon, Archer—walks farther, flies higher, every day.

Sometimes imagery tells its own stories.

 

 

 

 

 

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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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