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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Posted by on in Culture Blogs

They call our path the Crooked Path, our god the Crooked Serpent.

But what do they know of Crooked and Straight?

We are crooked as the River that snakes across the Land.

We are crooked as the deer-path that winds through the woods.

Let them keep to the Straight, the unforked path.

Ours is the Crooked, the way of the River.

Ours is the Crooked, the way of the Deer.

Ours is the Crooked, the way of the Lightning.

We are crooked as Lightning is crooked.


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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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