Will Vigar

poet. writer. imposter.

The Red Shoes

I’ve recently been in hospital for a major and life-altering operation; fetching gown, no? I came out of the anaesthetic. I wrote this on my phone, almost immediately. I have … Continue reading

December 19, 2022 · Leave a comment

The Wrong Forest

Mean aluminium trees – plastic vines circulating analgesic sap – fail to sway in the bare thoracic snap from tired, syncopating lungs.   Phoney canopy on geometric bough. Silent, motionless … Continue reading

January 8, 2019 · Leave a comment