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, 5 insertions, 5 deletions

@@ -42,11 +42,11 @@
 
         
         <section class="content verse">
-            <p>He didn’t have any polish so he spit-shined the whole thing,<br />top to bottom. It gleamed like maybe a tomato on the vine<br />begging to be picked and thrown on some caprese. Death loved caprese.</p>
-            <p>He stood up and put the horn to his lips, imagining<br />it was a woman he loved. He blushed as he realized<br />it was a terrible metaphor.<br />He practiced for six hours a day—what else to do?</p>
-            <p>Death looks at <a href="moongone.html">himself in the mirror</a> as he plays.<br />The trumpet is suspended in midair. Damn vampire rules.<br />Death is always worried he might have missed a spot shaving<br />but he’ll never know unless a stranger is polite enough.<br />Not that he ever goes out or meets anyone.</p>
-            <p>He wakes up late these days. Stays in bed later.<br />He thinks he might be depressed. The caprese has gotten soggy<br />since he made it, maybe three days ago or maybe just two.<br />The sun streams through his kitchen blinds like smoke.<br />He decides to go to the arcade. When he gets there,</p>
-            <p>there’s only a <a href="angeltoabraham.html">little boy</a> with dead eyes. So far so good.<br />He’s playing a first-person shooter. Death walks past him<br />and watches out of the corner of his eye. The kid’s good.<br />Death wants to congratulate him. His trumpet is in his hand.</p>
+            <p><span class="line">He didn’t have any polish so he spit-shined the whole thing,</span><span class="line">top to bottom. It gleamed like maybe a tomato on the vine</span><span class="line">begging to be picked and thrown on some caprese. Death loved caprese.</span></p>
+            <p><span class="line">He stood up and put the horn to his lips, imagining</span><span class="line">it was a woman he loved. He blushed as he realized</span><span class="line">it was a terrible metaphor.</span><span class="line">He practiced for six hours a day—what else to do?</span></p>
+            <p><span class="line">Death looks at <a href="moongone.html">himself in the mirror</a> as he plays.</span><span class="line">The trumpet is suspended in midair. Damn vampire rules.</span><span class="line">Death is always worried he might have missed a spot shaving</span><span class="line">but he’ll never know unless a stranger is polite enough.</span><span class="line">Not that he ever goes out or meets anyone.</span></p>
+            <p><span class="line">He wakes up late these days. Stays in bed later.</span><span class="line">He thinks he might be depressed. The caprese has gotten soggy</span><span class="line">since he made it, maybe three days ago or maybe just two.</span><span class="line">The sun streams through his kitchen blinds like smoke.</span><span class="line">He decides to go to the arcade. When he gets there,</span></p>
+            <p><span class="line">there’s only a <a href="angeltoabraham.html">little boy</a> with dead eyes. So far so good.</span><span class="line">He’s playing a first-person shooter. Death walks past him</span><span class="line">and watches out of the corner of his eye. The kid’s good.</span><span class="line">Death wants to congratulate him. His trumpet is in his hand.</span></p>
         </section>
     </article>
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