The records relate the story wrong—

•50/ The records relate the story wrong.

He does not remember before— all he recalls is a pulling out of the damp earth, when mud and clay released him out of a muck of afterbirth and renewal. So Pan stood for the first time on shaky colt legs, with sweat and stain covering him fully. His matted hair. Small budding horns just breaking the surface of his skull. As one of the first Gods. A natural process thrown out of goat dung, discarded balls of wool, human remains. He took his first steps leaning off the earth, leaning into the wilderness. Phallus erect. The muscle angry and extended with a rash desire. Eyes seeking. Taking in the Arcadian humid air. A greening. A coiling in the gut. His eyes. The sun lowered on his right hand. A horned crescent rose on his left. A rising blue mixed with a sinking gold. The first night.
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