A Birdsong Is – A Prose Poem Photo Hybrid by Paul Brookes

I am honoured and privileged to be part of this great project by Rob and IceFloe Press. He has done a cracking job with my photos and text.

IceFloe Press


At the finish of the haul and heave over boulders, navigation of waters that want different directions, the undertow drags yet another road, gust tears at your fragile craft, spirals into the lee of rocks, the yaw of the sky until at a finish your scrawls describe colours in cave.

Run from the approaching storm with your lightning attractors, slip, slide on debris to find a hollow where you can watch the electric skies burn themselves out.

A hand takes you down from summer into winter, out of the brightness into the underland where you can hear water’s onwardness but not see its progress. Know it carves out discovery.

A hand leads you into the dark, takes you into yourself down into the roots, the synapses starless rivers that carve out caverns of wonder in a sunless place.

I am in the dark all better for my finger tips…

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