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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13 o' Clock

 Thirteenth Night,

when time runs backwards,

and the world whirls giddily widdershins.

Happy Feast of Fools!

 

Htrae eht nopu tuo deruop si evol ym dna,

Gnivil lla fo Rehtom eht ma I, dloheb rof,

ecifircas ni thgua dnamed I od ron.

Erofeb enog evah ohw esoht htiw noinuer dna,

modeerf, ecaep, htaed dnoyeb dna;

lanrete tirips eht fo egdelwonk evig I, htrae nopu....

Seirehctiw lla fo Neeuq ma ohw,

me fo tirips eht eroda dna ecalp terces emos ni elbmessa ey llahs neht,

lluf si noom eht nehw eb ti retteb dna,

htnom eht ni ecno,

gnihtyna fo deen evah ey revenehw.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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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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