Will Vigar

poet. writer. imposter.

Miserable Tinsel

Dusk plummets with the grace of scissored marionettes disgorging phantom garlands from seeping notchwort across belties and gullies. Without the moon the vale, is festooned with the most miserable of … Continue reading

November 26, 2022 · Leave a comment

Sub Iove

i – Two The first phrase I spoke was in awe of the storm. As the sky tore ablaze, my eyes widened and I pointed to the clouds. With tiny … Continue reading

September 5, 2022 · Leave a comment

(Chromo)Y+Y = +sumgain

I’m in a weird mood. Maybe this visual poem shows that. Normal service will be resumed once I have this bee out of my bonnet.

August 6, 2022 · Leave a comment

Learning Shame and Anger in the Midst of a Moral Panic.

I’m often asked why I don’t write more about being queer. I find this to be an odd question. As far as I’m concerned, all of my poetry is queer … Continue reading

July 30, 2022 · Leave a comment

My Ex In Anger

A poem about making the best out of a crappy situation and grabbing happiness where you can.

May 21, 2022 · Leave a comment

Dungeness. March 9th. 2018.

Prompted by a visit to the spectacularly odd town of Dungeness on the southeastern corner of England. An expansive shingle beach is sparsely covered with shacks, bungalows, the odd piece … Continue reading

May 20, 2022 · Leave a comment

Stillborn

I’m fascinated by Ravenscar, ‘The Town That Never Was.’ It was meant to be built on the cliffs just south of Whitby and Robin Hoods Bay to capitalise on the … Continue reading

May 4, 2022 · Leave a comment

Temptress (For the Love of Kelvin Flats)

A reading of the first of my poems that was published by The London Magazine. A love song to a long-demolished brutalist housing estate in Sheffield.

April 21, 2022 · Leave a comment

Peak 3 (Stillborn)

I’m currently writing a piece for my trip around the Shipping Forecast areas set in the Tyne region. It’s along the same lines as the Alderley and Avebury pieces, elsewhere … Continue reading

January 24, 2022 · Leave a comment

Bullshit Detector

1. 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

November 12, 2021 · Leave a comment