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| author | Case Duckworth | 2015-03-02 19:25:42 -0700 |
|---|---|---|
| committer | Case Duckworth | 2015-03-02 19:25:42 -0700 |
| commit | 17f2ce8d651ed0635a6f005e9bf4555fc2bec22a (patch) | |
| tree | 067ca922649319d6b6dc350d2c5fb9f91eefcead /swansong.html | |
| parent | Change width of webpages; streamline template (diff) | |
| download | autocento-17f2ce8d651ed0635a6f005e9bf4555fc2bec22a.tar.gz autocento-17f2ce8d651ed0635a6f005e9bf4555fc2bec22a.zip | |
Move dedication before epigraph
Diffstat (limited to 'swansong.html')
| -rw-r--r-- | swansong.html | 3 |
1 files changed, 2 insertions, 1 deletions
| diff --git a/swansong.html b/swansong.html index 236da19..f9f4f33 100644 --- a/swansong.html +++ b/swansong.html | |||
| @@ -23,7 +23,8 @@ | |||
| 23 | <h1 class="title">Swan song</h1> | 23 | <h1 class="title">Swan song</h1> |
| 24 | 24 | ||
| 25 | 25 | ||
| 26 | </header> | 26 | |
| 27 | </header> | ||
| 27 | 28 | ||
| 28 | <section class="thing verse"> | 29 | <section class="thing verse"> |
| 29 | <p>Swans fly overhead singing goodbye<br />to we <a href="howithappened.html">walkers of the earth</a>. You point<br />to them in formation, you tell me<br />you are not you. <a href="swansong-alt.html">You are the air the swans<br />walk on</a> as they journey like pilgrims<br />to a temple in the south. A curtain<br />there separates me from you, swans<br />from the air they fly through. I say<br />that you are no longer the temple,<br />that you have been through fire<br />and are now less than ash. You are<br />a <a href="moongone.html">mirror</a> of me, the <a href="deathstrumpet.html">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> | 30 | <p>Swans fly overhead singing goodbye<br />to we <a href="howithappened.html">walkers of the earth</a>. You point<br />to them in formation, you tell me<br />you are not you. <a href="swansong-alt.html">You are the air the swans<br />walk on</a> as they journey like pilgrims<br />to a temple in the south. A curtain<br />there separates me from you, swans<br />from the air they fly through. I say<br />that you are no longer the temple,<br />that you have been through fire<br />and are now less than ash. You are<br />a <a href="moongone.html">mirror</a> of me, the <a href="deathstrumpet.html">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> |