CINDER WIND

i am Englishman cool in cinder wind 

lurid armless bird beak nodding

in leaf litter on hospital lawn

walking brisk in the hill malaise

cinder wind turn hot 

nervous prickle sweat

and Johnny floorsweep

holds his mop like a flag

like a lance

like victory

outside the toilet

blocked

turd is like an arm

deep in winter heating smell

of hallway

deep upstairs - deep in radiator paint

deep in Last Year

the Kings of Leon Winter

i am English boy

blowing years off in the cinder wind

on the Leukemia farm

where sponsorship child waits on the verge

overweight alone - by the whirl of fast cars

with the same gearbox to share

progress blocked by island trees of wood

always turning right

made by man consumed

and man in circles

island trees of meat - elemental - mental like wood -

theres something about wood . . . 

paper crushed by left hands in yesterdays

blue bus station

a homeless head in hands

sitting where

he came in from rain

and new turf like tiles

squares up to shiny glass

and dust the builders left

the baby grabs my hair

goes for glasses - kisses the mirror cushion

i think of Spain - think of yellow

yellow-

i am English boy - English toy

blown in the cinder wind

talk last year 

last year

last year

'take your coat off/you're staying for the weekend'

lean Leon streets of Bistros and kerbs-

cold and fresh in W1 and Islington

late drink surprised

walk the corners

lost in motion and drink

and parties are mixed blessing

and we text guessing addresses

when its hot and cold

and good and bad

and bottle roll over uneven lino's

and last year held tight fear

gripped little heart and gave a start

at the rock and roll winds

blowing nostalgia

of everyone who was ans wasn't there

like the cinder wind now

blowing cool

on my English shoes