Having just discovered William Carlos Williams’s writing, loving most-to-all of it, defying older brother and PHD candidate who says WCW is kind of old news to those in the know, searching #williamcarloswilliams and not finding much because of course that’s kind of long for the internet, trying again with #WCW, finding actually at least a million posts, mostly photos of women, thinking holy cow girls really like William Carlos Williams! Realizing after a few clicks that #WCW means Woman Crush Wednesday and not William Carlos Williams, thinking gosh what a waste of a good hashtag, scolding all mankind for not being better read and for contributing so enthusiastically to such a shallow activity, then putting himself in others’s shoes, reassessing #WCW as maybe a kind and wonderful thing for those deemed crush-worthy by their peers, a real middle-of-the-week-hump-day-pick-me-up, and thus resolving himself to be a part of this event he’s settled on being actually quite lovely and thinking of homage, thinking of form and content relationships, thinking of double entendre perhaps, and choosing to do it for all #WCW women but also perhaps just for a single #WCW-worthy woman who might understand if she reads it but might not and resigning himself to being OK with it if she doesn’t, deriving enough satisfaction from the piece itself, he writes:
so much depends upon
my fingers circling your hip bone
through the fabric of your maxi-skirt.
This story appeared in Issue 9.2. Pick up your copy today.