Will Vigar

a writer of sorts

Dungeness – March 9th, 2018.

Brut concrete lines, aged and crinkled, adding ersatz shingles to a saved and solemn beach.   Beech gantries lead to stern signposts warning of ripped seas warmed, given unexpected life … Continue reading

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Dais

The wrong shoes impede my ascent and I struggle-slip through grass and gorse.   The keen thorned shrubs tug on too thin clothes and claw at barely waxed haversack   … Continue reading

June 2, 2018 · Leave a comment

News, apologies, excitement (slight return)

If I’ve seemed a bit quiet of late, there are a number of good reasons. Firstly, I’ve been chasing up a PhD for myself and after several months, I’ve got … Continue reading

May 28, 2018 · Leave a comment

Zennui

Do you know what? I still bloody love this… The complete 2 page strip I did for the Borderline Press book “Zombre”  

May 8, 2018 · 3 Comments

Flesh and Feather

Drab brown drag bustling with the snap and jitter of twelve frames a second. Squabble tweedling with dickering kin scrabble-flickering for errant grain.   The farmers sons with .22 strength … Continue reading

March 30, 2018 · Leave a comment

Carrot

  There is   a car   rot on   the lawn;   the on   ly ev   idence   that we   once had   snow. Win   … Continue reading

March 1, 2018 · Leave a comment

Lullaby

The frenetic signal lost from Luxemburg at 0045 hours nightly, gave me time to retune the transistor radio to the long wave, ghost whining of empty air.   White mono … Continue reading

February 24, 2018 · 1 Comment

Camille

Sweat and hands and passion shape an uncarved block   in his name; his reputation ensured by your devotion.   Each success bruising her affection. Each denial inflaming her desire. … Continue reading

February 20, 2018 · Leave a comment

Hastings Beach 1974

Ignoring the arguments and the cigarette fug, I rub the condensation from the window. It won’t be long before white noise stops its sibilant assault on roof and windscreen.   … Continue reading

February 10, 2018 · Leave a comment

Davy’s of Dover

Tottering on the stub and clack, my Mum, replete in navy slacks, ushers us to Davy’s van to buy us fish and chips.   The salt and fat and ketchup … Continue reading

February 9, 2018 · Leave a comment