Will Vigar

poet. writer. imposter.

An Autopsy

An Autopsy (on being homeless in Sheffield in the 1980’s) i.   Among mills, warehouses, tenements; stone blackened; cars burned; metal rusted; Each transformed by the neglect brought by progress. … Continue reading

April 6, 2016 · Leave a comment

Fifteen Cafe Scenes (11 – 15)

xi. Hallelujah? “She always brings extra biscuits for God and makes sure there is enough tea for His cup.” She acknowledges that His cuppa does not runneth over. It just … Continue reading

March 29, 2016 · Leave a comment

Fifteen Cafe Scenes (6 -10)

vi. Homeless He shuffles in a cup in his hand hoping he won’t be noticed; pretending that he bought it earlier, he takes a seat in an alcove. Staring into … Continue reading

March 23, 2016 · Leave a comment

Refugee

I wanted to write a poem about the refugee crisis. I wanted it to be a savage criticism of the political situation leading up to the mass migration; the horrors … Continue reading

March 18, 2016 · Leave a comment

Fifteen Cafe Scenes (1 – 5)

i. Weasel A weasel in a shiny suit, all slavering chops and malintent, insinuates that the only way to progress is through sordid impropriety ii. Yummy She does her best … Continue reading

March 16, 2016 · Leave a comment

Kiss Me Again, Jack

So many years since I felt the hoar caress my cheek   with needle teeth. Not breaking the skin but bringing it to rude life . . .   Kiss … Continue reading

March 15, 2016 · Leave a comment

Dynevor Road (1-4)

domestic vignettes from when i lived with my grandparents in the 1970’s 1.Brawn Half a pig’s head lies forgotten having fallen behind the electrolux * The rising damp in the understair larder … Continue reading

March 9, 2016 · Leave a comment

Going Home: Keats – Episode 4

April 19th Breakfast. Animals. Piano. The problem, I suppose, is that I don’t know most of the music I found. Not by name, anyway. Playing it, aware that my sight … Continue reading

March 4, 2016 · Leave a comment

Three Haiku

Nostalgia A box of photos. The debris of simpler times. Wonderful and sad.   Lament Time still gives no clues As to how you changed the trees From oak to … Continue reading

March 1, 2016 · Leave a comment

Church Ope Cove

Tethered kelp shakes angry algal fists at boy racer waves. *** Reaching for shore, slow-time tides beat lunar tattooes. *** Oil black mackerel taunt the shore-bound; Slick and shifting. *** … Continue reading

February 28, 2016 · Leave a comment