Teshelle Combs

Poems about the turning of the earth, towards and away from one thing to another, and for the idea of "them," from which we also turn away or towards.

Words assorted for the robust, for the place we love. Poems about the bold and unafraid nature of nature.

Poems about the delicate fearlessness of the earth and its beginnings and endings. Perhaps it will give these to us if we are up for the learning.

A book of poems, by me, Teshelle Combs, allowing for the investigation of, or rather the accusation of, or rather the commendation of love and all its claims on me. I would say enjoy, but I am trying to be less naive these days.

A continuation of poems about love by me, Teshelle Combs, in honor of the continuous nature of love and how it goes in either direction, regardless of our requests. I hope this book finds you out of control.

Words laced together on behalf of an idea, a place, a world. Poems for the earth, from someone who's lived here all her life. Poems about what it takes to bring life out of death.

The final installment of poems about love, by me, Teshelle Combs, unless there will be more, which is either up to me or up to love, but probably not up to any of us if poetry has anything to do with anything. You are welcome to it, but I would advise a tentative approach.

It doesn't mean what you think...being the one. It's not a parade on a Saturday morning through a rainfall of confetti. It's not a trophy or a warm hug or a life spent in a mansion on a hill.Being the one is being hunted. It's torment. It's realizing there is no one you have ever trusted who can look you in the eye. Or maybe there is no one you have ever trusted at all.The System will find you if you're the one. Or they already have. And maybe the Syndicate can help. Or maybe they can't.There is one constant. It is you and your partner. Forget everything else. Forget everything.