Jandy Nelson

I don’t say, “And you used to make art and like boys and talk to horses and pull the moon through the window for my birthday present.”

I don’t say, “And you used to make art and like boys and talk to horses and pull the moon through the window for my birthday present.”

I don’t say, “And you used to make art and like boys and talk to horses and pull the moon through the window for my birthday present.”

The assignment was to do another self-portrait. I went abstract, as in: blob. Degas had dancers, I have blobs. Broken, glued-together blobs. This is my eighth.

Rain in December brings with it an unforeseen funeral
(It rained most of the December before she died.)

remind myself some girls deserve to be alone.