The Great He who arrives to a fan of turning in the most exquisitely peopled room, a train of rodents and gulls in tow, will magnetise coincidence, entrap the future, may leave his mark in stone – he lolls through all the solid facts, building with them empires of agreement. Or he whose name became a noun passed, like a gene whorled in fingerprints, from … Continue reading Two poems by James Goodman