Will Vigar

a writer of sorts

Pulsar

This poem is inspired by a visit to Jodrell Bank Observatory and specifically a sound file of pulsars ‘singing’ on this page. I’m sort of tallying singing pulsars with Dr John … Continue reading

March 25, 2020 · Leave a comment

Bridge

Fat land, moss wadded, pushes against my feet, carrying me   to the bridge; held in the scent of warm brine and red fescue.   Swaddled by wind fingers, I … Continue reading

January 22, 2020 · Leave a comment

Ullapool – Remembrance Sunday 2019 (Hebrides)

i.   An unexpected crunching woke me. Footsteps on gravel; a faint gruffling as something brushed against the chalet door; a light clack   -and-scrape against the mullions. Contented grunts … Continue reading

December 8, 2019 · Leave a comment

Dunnet Head (Fair Isle*)

In the tactile quiet, the whine of the nervous system drowns the black sea, north of Dunnet Head. A caged sound wash   on this fluid canvas – where aspic … Continue reading

November 23, 2019 · Leave a comment

Mine

One of probably three poems skirting around the story of the Shetland Bus and part of the Shipping Forecast Areas project – these will be part of Fair Isle, Viking … Continue reading

October 14, 2019 · 1 Comment

Bullshit Detector

1983 and faux anarchic romanticism seduces me. Squatting for peace dreaming that the threat of Threads is gone and Barefoot Gen can sleep unhindered; ashen shadows confined to graffiti.   … Continue reading

April 13, 2019 · Leave a comment

Via

nameless child nameless child mother earless mumchance   isle-bound by the grace of a king – to search for the divine idiolect – communion with the light of lights   … Continue reading

April 9, 2019 · Leave a comment

Tickets Please, Mr Auden

It wasn’t the Savile taint of the Age of the Train or the jaw dropping sexism of travelling like the men do, but the efficiency of engines that killed the … Continue reading

March 29, 2019 · Leave a comment

Tidal

In silt and sand awaiting the thellasic lick of high water, flaccid buoys – tethered to mark the edge of aphrodisiac beds – rise in time for the smack and … Continue reading

January 29, 2019 · Leave a comment

Kings

With fingers stained and sticky From the juice of scrumped berries I peel enamel scales from the top of the weathered climbing frame.     From its ramparts, my pink … Continue reading

January 27, 2019 · Leave a comment