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Greg Hewett becomes H.D.
Greg Hewett’s blogging about H.D. on the Best American Poetry blog this week:
In high school I became H.D. Or at least her spirit inhabited mine as I read her out-loud to myself, sprawled on the black beanbag chair in my room, heels dug into the deep, orange shag carpeting as the lines poured through me. Like her, I was interested in séances and other supernatural phenomena, and so figured that the day she died (September 27, 1961) was right about the time when I, at age three, had a fever that nearly killed me. I reasoned that when her spirit left her body it found its way into mine, causing the fever. I wrote about this at prodigious length in my diary.
And we grew up thinking we were H.D….