Will Vigar

a writer of sorts

Hotel. Birmingham. 18.8.17. The Treachery of Mirrors

It’s stifling, even with the window open. The bloody workmen have woken me with drills and diggers with alarms that sound like they will break into ‘Jingle Bells.’ Every few … Continue reading

February 7, 2018 · Leave a comment

Not Gold

A rucksack, mugger torn, spills a life to the floor. Gathering the remnants; wallet, money, destination gone;   no choice but a park bench; enamelled metal and stale beer sticky; … Continue reading

February 7, 2018 · Leave a comment

A Prayer to the Bean

February 7, 2018 · Leave a comment

A Deserted Village

An Architect would no doubt weep at the maze of tumbled rock found sad, lonely, lost beneath the sweep of beaten bracken paths. Summer brings bright silence with each new … Continue reading

February 6, 2018 · Leave a comment

Lunar Tattoos

In the next few days, I’ll be releasing a chapbook on Amazon. It’ll be available as a kindle book and a print on demand item. I’ll also be having a … Continue reading

February 5, 2018 · Leave a comment

Church Ope Cove

Tethered kelp shakes angry algal fists at boy racer waves reaching for shore. Slow-time tides beat lunar tattoos. Oil black mackerel taunt the shore bound; Slick and shifting. Wind whips; … Continue reading

February 5, 2018 · Leave a comment

Losna (Winter)

From beside a sun- paled bridge – enamel petals falling, brickle and bleached – I watch the mounting satellite –   wan-creeping above bitter horizon – over looking-glass spatters of … Continue reading

December 19, 2017 · Leave a comment

Tromsdalen

There was a time when a small shack, – unused in decades – stood here, shaking under a barrage of wind and hail;   door barely hanging on by it’s friable rust devoured hinges; charged … Continue reading

December 12, 2017 · Leave a comment

ursus maritimus

Her head low and eyes fixed on mine. Loping from floe   to sea to dolerite schist; crackling on the lime rich shore;   following stale musk. Per shakes my … Continue reading

December 9, 2017 · Leave a comment

three

i have walked for nearly thirty miles and yet lack the courage to pass through the sap sticky firs and on to other soil   there is no mark no … Continue reading

December 3, 2017 · Leave a comment