“Is that the mill,” he I said.

          —from a corrected typescript of For Whom the Bell Tolls by Ernest Hemingway on display in “Hemingway Between the Wars,” Morgan Library, NYC 2015-16

 

            He lay flat on the brown, pine-needled floor of the forest, his chin on his folded arms, and high overhead the wind blew in the tops of the pine trees. The mountainside sloped gently where he lay; but below it was steep and he could see the dark of the oiled road winding through the pass. There was a stream alongside the road and far down the pass he saw a mill beside the stream and the falling water of the dam, white in the summer sunlight.

            “Is that the mill?” he asked.

           —For Whom the Bell Tolls by Ernest Hemingway

 

Papa knew we shall never know
what Robert Jordan knows
unless we see
what he does
with what he knows.

—James Penha

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PenhaA native New Yorker, James Penha has lived for the past quarter-century in Indonesia. He has been nominated for Pushcart Prizes in fiction and in poetry. Snakes and Angels, a collection of his adaptations of classic Indonesian folk tales, won the 2009 Cervena Barva Press fiction chapbook contest; No Bones to Carry, a volume of his poetry, earned the 2007 New Sins Press Editors’ Choice Award. Penha edits TheNewVerse.News, an online journal of current-events poetry. @JamesPenha