Will Vigar

poet. writer. imposter.

Heligoland (German Bight)

1. Dismay To the dismay of ornithologists the birds rise and flee. Starlings startled by deep thrumming scatter; their murmuration disrupted, the air thickened by the chop of rotol blades. … Continue reading

October 21, 2021 · Leave a comment

Felix and Fingal

Hauled through dreich and spindrift, stomach queered by seekrankheit he gives thanks as he moors to the tuff and – learning how to walk on land again – takes in … Continue reading

October 19, 2021 · Leave a comment

Brittle (for Greg)

Brittle (For Greg) the weather knew and howled a gale cancelling it plans for an Indian summer raging at the trees that shed their sallows at its stuttered breath – … Continue reading

October 1, 2021 · 1 Comment

Wight Sketches

Okay, so I’ve not been around for a while. A mix of block and illness has conspired to keep me from writing but, tentatively, I seem to be back although … Continue reading

September 28, 2021 · Leave a comment

England Underground

Like any other day, the sun rose not caring that the earth would steal its light, holding onto it like like a frenzied mother smothering her child. Not caring that … Continue reading

June 8, 2020 · Leave a comment

On Visiting Alderley Edge in the Hope of Finding a Wizhard

I wanted to follow in their footsteps – inhaling the clean filth of leaf mould. Terror and adrenalin giving scent to the enemy; to be “relentlessly pursued by outlandish creatures.” … Continue reading

May 18, 2020 · Leave a comment

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

James VI vs The Metatron

The tiny island of Inchkeith, near Burntisland, off the east coast of Scotland  is home to a story where King James VI exiled a woman with her two infant sons … Continue reading

February 1, 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

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