J.H. Prynne died on Wednesday at the age of 89, after a prolific life as a teacher and essayist, a loyal friend to his students and, above all, a poet of great stature whose remains will not be transferred to Westminster Abbey. When the heart stops, its business concluded     there’s not much to do, however deluded; immortal longings, like belongings,     abandon their fate at the turnstile’s gate.                                                                 Poem 48, Snooty Tipoffs (2021) The landscape of English poetry changed after the publication of Prynne’s second book, Kitchen Poems,  in 1968.…