Although Iain Sinclair is now known primarily for his prose, his poetry is equally worthy of attention. I first came across him in the seminal anthology A Various Art (1987, ed. Crozier/Longville), ostensibly a showcase for the 'Cambridge School' of JH Prynne and Veronica Forrest-Thomson but really quite a diverse grouping of non-mainstream poets including Roy Fisher, Douglas Oliver and Peter Riley. The poems by Sinclair stand out even among such distinguished company for their slanted takes on urban locales, the language denser and more given to surreal, grotesque or mythic tangents than in the prose-books.
What strikes me, re-reading the brilliant shorter pieces, is in fact how contemporary these 30 year-old poems feel; their influence seems to be apparent in a number of younger London poets writing now. A piece by Tom Chivers called 'Civic Block Print', for example, that appeared recently on his blog This is Yogic (link on blogroll) seems to me pure early Sinclair:
The building is a fang
this building is a pyramid
spine of unreal glass
split across the tracks