Untitled in liverpool
Though you have no name on the streets,
An urban anomic luster
On the eyes of us,
You have a name in the taverns;
A name scrawled in once smoky
Centers of Commerce and
You have a name in this pool, the collection of your efforts
With other names.
Chains of letters in communion,
High torque and winged.
Those avian mono-brows still scatter when we populace of Anagrams stream through
The nameless streets,
and ghostly Irish stories give name to us all.
By Christian Eriksson