Fix #5: Verse typesetting

Thanks to the pandoc-discussion thread at
<https://groups.google.com/forum/#!topic/pandoc-discuss/_JnTJnsSK3k>,
line breaks in verse have been converted to <span class="line">s,
which enables the CSS to style them with hanging indents, given
a too-small viewport.  This commit also includes a makefile edit to
reflect this change, and the Haskell source and executable of the
pandoc filter.

1 files changed, 6 insertions, 6 deletions

@@ -44,12 +44,12 @@
                         </div>
         
         <section class="content verse">
-            <p>So it’s the <a href="deathstrumpet.html">fucking moon</a>. Big deal. As if<br />you haven’t seen it before, hanging in the sky<br />like a piece of <a href="roughgloves.html">rotten meat</a> nailed to the wall,</p>
-            <p>a maudlin love letter (the i’s dotted with <a href="proverbs.html">hearts</a>)<br />tacked to the sky’s door like ninety-eight theses.<br />Don’t stare at it like it means anything.</p>
-            <p>Don’t give it the chance to collect meaning<br />from your hand like an old pigeon. Don’t dare ascribe<br />it a will, or call it fickle, or think it has any say</p>
-            <p>in your affairs. It’s separated from your life<br />by three hundred eighty-four thousand miles of space,<br />the same distance you stepped away from time that night</p>
-            <p>you said your love was broken, a crippled gyroscope<br />knocking in the dark. It was then that time fell apart,<br />had a nervous breakdown and started following you</p>
-            <p>everywhere, moonfaced, always asking where you’re going.<br />You keep trying to get away from it but it nuzzles closer<br />and sings you songs that sound like the cooing of a dove<br />that will only escape again into an empty sky at dawn.</p>
+            <p><span class="line">So it’s the <a href="deathstrumpet.html">fucking moon</a>. Big deal. As if</span><span class="line">you haven’t seen it before, hanging in the sky</span><span class="line">like a piece of <a href="roughgloves.html">rotten meat</a> nailed to the wall,</span></p>
+            <p><span class="line">a maudlin love letter (the i’s dotted with <a href="proverbs.html">hearts</a>)</span><span class="line">tacked to the sky’s door like ninety-eight theses.</span><span class="line">Don’t stare at it like it means anything.</span></p>
+            <p><span class="line">Don’t give it the chance to collect meaning</span><span class="line">from your hand like an old pigeon. Don’t dare ascribe</span><span class="line">it a will, or call it fickle, or think it has any say</span></p>
+            <p><span class="line">in your affairs. It’s separated from your life</span><span class="line">by three hundred eighty-four thousand miles of space,</span><span class="line">the same distance you stepped away from time that night</span></p>
+            <p><span class="line">you said your love was broken, a crippled gyroscope</span><span class="line">knocking in the dark. It was then that time fell apart,</span><span class="line">had a nervous breakdown and started following you</span></p>
+            <p><span class="line">everywhere, moonfaced, always asking where you’re going.</span><span class="line">You keep trying to get away from it but it nuzzles closer</span><span class="line">and sings you songs that sound like the cooing of a dove</span><span class="line">that will only escape again into an empty sky at dawn.</span></p>
         </section>
     </article>
     <nav>