Will Vigar

a writer of sorts

Jack Skellington Moment….

What’s this? What’s This! I’m only in the new issue of The London Magazine!  Second appearance, third soon.  Two poems over three pages, both with a slightly Viking bent… As … Continue reading

August 4, 2018 · Leave a comment

Two of the reasons I’m doing a PhD

A Confessional Prose Poem of sorts. i) Martin came  by to babysit.        I was three and had heard          Good Vibrations by the Beach Boys     on the radio that morning   … Continue reading

July 12, 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

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

May 2, 2018 · Leave a comment

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

Hotel. Birmingham. 19.8.17. 03:17.am

Birmingham sleeps, its illuminated building works, a shadow jungle to trap the drunk and wary.   Lost in the plastic and sodium labyrinth; infernal circles traced in brick dust, he … Continue reading

February 8, 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