[“Why did I think a person only distantly like me / Might finally represent my life?” – John Koethe]
There is a ‘him,’ that is, me, who has been written about, documented, praised and blamed. ‘Him’ appears on the internet and among the last few vanishing books. ‘Him” has generated children who have themselves generated children, some of them Hims as well. Him has written everything worth remembering. And forgetting.
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