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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Warlock Magic



“What a minute,” says my friend. “I thought you were cut.”

We're taking a break between sauna sessions.

“In fact,” he continues, looking more closely, “I know you were cut.”

“That's right,” I say.

We've been sauna buddies for years. For two guys who have never been lovers, we know one another's bodies pretty well.

“'re not,” he says, puzzled.

“Not any more,” I say.

He's silent for a while. Finally, he shakes his head.

“Warlock magic,” he says.

“That's right,” I say.


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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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