“The Chicago Train,” by Louis Glück, from The First Four Books of Poems, Ecco Press, 1990.†    As to the poetical Character itself,…it is not itself—it has no self—it is every thing and nothing—It has no character….What shocks the virtuous philosopher, delights the camelion Poet….[H]e has no Identity—he is continually in for[med]—and filling some other Body—The Sun, the Moon, the Sea and Men and Women…. When I am in a room with People…, then not myself goes home to myself: but the identity of every one in the room begins [so] to press upon me that, I am in very little time annihilated…. – John Keats. Letter to Richard Woodhouse. October 27, 1818   As young poets meeting for evening workshop in the book-lined Browsing…