I’m sitting at my desk in what feels like the first time in weeks. Am I rusty in the fingers? Yes. But do I have things to get off my chest? Also, yes.  I’m back, baby. 2025; here, and then gone. Or, at least, that has been my experience this year. I type this on the eve of January 1, 2026. I woke this morning and tried to think about what these last twelve months have meant to me, and I came up with little. Maybe it’s because I’m too used to measuring myself in terms of progress. My ballet...

(For a more sensory experience, put on the track AVENOIR by .diedlonely while reading). https://music.apple.com/us/album/avenoir/16111956...

THE ALIQUIAN series, Book 1 Trailer Poem written and narrated by Mary Coe Finally, the mare is bridled for me, and as I mount her, my...