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authorCase Duckworth2015-03-09 12:39:38 -0700
committerCase Duckworth2015-03-09 12:39:38 -0700
commit0bc764f003a763a30f3030b4de233a512a016881 (patch)
treef9734e3708fa3eb6449ac1dab05ea62d3da318ce /swansong-alt.html
parentRe write .thing into #container > .content (diff)
downloadautocento-0bc764f003a763a30f3030b4de233a512a016881.tar.gz
autocento-0bc764f003a763a30f3030b4de233a512a016881.zip
HTML compile 2015-03-09
Diffstat (limited to 'swansong-alt.html')
-rw-r--r--swansong-alt.html6
1 files changed, 4 insertions, 2 deletions
diff --git a/swansong-alt.html b/swansong-alt.html index 7e524a8..54e1bca 100644 --- a/swansong-alt.html +++ b/swansong-alt.html
@@ -24,6 +24,7 @@
24 </head> 24 </head>
25<body> 25<body>
26 26
27<article id="header">
27 <header> 28 <header>
28 <!-- title --> 29 <!-- title -->
29 <h1 class="title">Swansong</h1> 30 <h1 class="title">Swansong</h1>
@@ -32,9 +33,10 @@
32 33
33 </header> 34 </header>
34 35
35 <section class="thing verse"> 36 <section class="content verse">
36 <p>This poem is dry like <a href="time-looks-up-to-the-sky.html">chapped lips</a>.<br /><a href="no-nothing.html">It is hard as teeth</a>—hear the tapping?<br />It is the swan song of beauty, as all<br />swan songs are. <a href="poetry-time.html">Reading</a> it, you are<br />puzzled, perhaps a little repulsed.<br />Swans do not have teeth, nor do they sing.<br />A honking over the cliff is all<br />they can do, and that they do<br />badly. You don’t know where I’m going.<br />You want to tell me, <a href="about-the-author.html">You are not you</a>.<br /><a href="swansong.html">You are the air the swan walks on.</a><br />You are the fringe of the curtain<br /><a href="elegyforanalternateself.html">that separates me from you</a>. I say<br />that you are no longer the temple,<br />that you have been through <a href="fire.html">fire</a><br />and are now less than ash. You are<br />the subtraction of yourself from<br />the world, <a href="finding-the-lion.html">the air without a swan</a>.<br />Together, we are each other. You<br />and I have both nothing and everything<br />at once, we own the world and nothing in it.</p> 37 <p>This poem is dry like <a href="time-looks-up-to-the-sky.html">chapped lips</a>.<br /><a href="no-nothing.html">It is hard as teeth</a>—hear the tapping?<br />It is the swan song of beauty, as all<br />swan songs are. <a href="poetry-time.html">Reading</a> it, you are<br />puzzled, perhaps a little repulsed.<br />Swans do not have teeth, nor do they sing.<br />A honking over the cliff is all<br />they can do, and that they do<br />badly. You don’t know where I’m going.<br />You want to tell me, <a href="about-the-author.html">You are not you</a>.<br /><a href="swansong.html">You are the air the swan walks on.</a><br />You are the fringe of the curtain<br /><a href="elegyforanalternateself.html">that separates me from you</a>. I say<br />that you are no longer the temple,<br />that you have been through <a href="fire.html">fire</a><br />and are now less than ash. You are<br />the subtraction of yourself from<br />the world, <a href="finding-the-lion.html">the air without a swan</a>.<br />Together, we are each other. You<br />and I have both nothing and everything<br />at once, we own the world and nothing in it.</p>
37 </section> 38 </section>
39</article>
38 40
39 <nav> 41 <nav>
40 <a href="#" id="lozenge" title="Random page"> &loz; </a> 42 <a href="#" id="lozenge" title="Random page"> &loz; </a>