Category: Creative Non-Fiction

Poetry by Patrick JenningsJan 13, 20167:11 pm

Prayer Wheels

Clockwise. Always clockwise. Clockwise round. Walking, spinning. Always clockwise. The wheels turn, continue turning, after they pass. Some turn and turn and turn while others fight against the inertia. Pilgrims, bright and tattered, or bright, or tattered. Some of these too will turn and turn, always clockwise, round the cluster of buildings capped in gold and brass at Labrangsi.

I will not count them: the prayer wheels, the meters, the pilgrims, the steps, the number of times I will feel the smooth patina of wood against my palm. I say to Emma: “I want to do this.” She assents.

Landscape by Patrick JenningsJan 12, 20169:01 pm

Near Joshua Tree National Park, California, United States of America

Velocity

The world reels by, unfurling at 90 miles an hour. At this speed, travel gains the sense of dance even on a relatively straight, flat interstate such as this section of I-395. I am aware of the countryside, the gentle undulations of the valley floor contrasting the angular gyrations of slowly eroding hillsides; I am aware of the thinning stands of Joshua Tree and can pick out a few individual shapes for their magnificence or their decrepitude; I notice the snowline band so evenly frosting the hill tops, that I am climbing toward the line, that I am now above it and that the snow along the roadside proceeds from spare dollops to a thin crust with mesquite poking through.

Landscape by Patrick JenningsDec 20, 20152:40 pm

Tha Tien

I am sitting over a bowl of Tom Yum soup and a Singha, both a perfect antidote for heat and humidity. Large prawns spooned out of an oily, spicy broth. Baby corn cobs, fresh picked, are an explosion of flavour, like an entire cob of spring corn in a single bite. I chill my burning lips with a draft from the Singha, an ice cold lager which makes up with chill effervescence what it lacks in taste.

Samsung Galaxy S5 by Patrick JenningsNov 4, 20159:34 pm

Resonant truth

“But, how do you know?” she asked.

I paused. Reflected. Then, “have you ever known something to be true, absolutely true, even though there was no way you could know it to be true, because there was no reason to think it was true? Something you can’t explain to anyone else, even explain to yourself?”

Detail by Patrick JenningsNov 1, 20153:40 pm

Lager

My housemate was in New Orleans while I manned the fort during a dreary Vancouver March. It’s a singularly moist, grey and cold month, March in Vancouver. Sometimes a several-days-long hint of summer makes a foray into March which, rather than the reprieve it might otherwise be, only makes the return of cold wet seem all the more, well, cold and wet.

Landscape by Patrick JenningsNov 1, 201511:12 am

Pic and a Word Challenge #9 ~ Serenity

I am out on the lake, paddling the canoe. A couple monofilament lines trail, slim as a whisper, trolling for trout. It’s a wide blue sky, with a few wispy clouds hanging stationary above the mountain tops, which the sun is finally clearing this perfectly beautiful morning.

Architecture by Patrick JenningsSep 27, 201510:53 pm

Kobe

19:17 Kobe , Kansai Prefecture-Japan :: 11 JUN 95

Sunlight sifts through leafy boughs. Green-tinged, it swaddles the room with peaceful rays. Two walls of glass panes open to nature’s embrace. City streets and city worries seem far removed.

“Do you hear it?”

“What?”

“The sound.”

Abstract by Patrick JenningsSep 19, 201511:09 am

Houston, we have a problem

When I was a kid we had one of those huge station wagons with the fake wood side trim and a jump seat that faced backwards. My dad loved to drive, so every weekend we’d pile into the car, all six of us, and go for drives through the central New Jersey countryside.

Abstract by Patrick JenningsSep 14, 20157:00 am

Amber on Red under Blue

We rolled up to Devil’s Marbles in the heat of the afternoon, the sun high and hot, the gravel parking lot kicking up dust with every step. Too hot to unpack. Too hot to clamber over the enormous stands of neatly stacked, smooth-edged boulders. Too far from Alice Springs to move on.

There was a little breeze, a few roofed camping platforms, so we parked ourselves beneath one while the ’79 Holden Gemini baked out in the sun.