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| author | Case Duckworth | 2015-03-02 18:31:47 -0700 |
|---|---|---|
| committer | Case Duckworth | 2015-03-02 18:31:47 -0700 |
| commit | 9a2e2a9c3e0396f956381b8ee4af80fe3e8cf652 (patch) | |
| tree | 7f6f171760ba416ba3c0324f1b1ef6b02dadb52a /weplayedthosegamestoo.html | |
| parent | Add fonts: Playfair, Fira, Courier Prime (diff) | |
| download | autocento-9a2e2a9c3e0396f956381b8ee4af80fe3e8cf652.tar.gz autocento-9a2e2a9c3e0396f956381b8ee4af80fe3e8cf652.zip | |
Add thing class to pieces in template; recompile
Diffstat (limited to 'weplayedthosegamestoo.html')
| -rw-r--r-- | weplayedthosegamestoo.html | 2 |
1 files changed, 1 insertions, 1 deletions
| diff --git a/weplayedthosegamestoo.html b/weplayedthosegamestoo.html index f695fbd..5f3368a 100644 --- a/weplayedthosegamestoo.html +++ b/weplayedthosegamestoo.html | |||
| @@ -24,7 +24,7 @@ | |||
| 24 | 24 | ||
| 25 | </header> | 25 | </header> |
| 26 | 26 | ||
| 27 | <section class="verse"> | 27 | <section class="thing verse"> |
| 28 | <p>I saw two Eskimo girls playing a game<br />blowing on each other’s’ vocal chords to make music<br />on the tundra. I thought about how<br />once we played the same game<br />and the sounds blowing over the chords of our throats<br />was the same as a wind over frozen prairie.<br />We are the Eskimo girls who played<br />the game that night to keep ourselves warm.<br />I run my hands over <a href="and.html">my daughter</a>’s<br />voicebox as she hums a song<br />about a seal and about killing the seal and about<br />skinning it and rendering the blubber<br />into clear oil to light lamps.<br />I remember you are my lamp. She remembers<br />you although you left before she arrived.<br />I can never tell her about you.<br />I will never be able to express that taste of your oil<br />as we <a href="spittle.html">pushed our throats together</a>.<br />I will never be able to say how<br />we share this blemish like conjoined twins.<br />I will fail you always to remember you.</p> | 28 | <p>I saw two Eskimo girls playing a game<br />blowing on each other’s’ vocal chords to make music<br />on the tundra. I thought about how<br />once we played the same game<br />and the sounds blowing over the chords of our throats<br />was the same as a wind over frozen prairie.<br />We are the Eskimo girls who played<br />the game that night to keep ourselves warm.<br />I run my hands over <a href="and.html">my daughter</a>’s<br />voicebox as she hums a song<br />about a seal and about killing the seal and about<br />skinning it and rendering the blubber<br />into clear oil to light lamps.<br />I remember you are my lamp. She remembers<br />you although you left before she arrived.<br />I can never tell her about you.<br />I will never be able to express that taste of your oil<br />as we <a href="spittle.html">pushed our throats together</a>.<br />I will never be able to say how<br />we share this blemish like conjoined twins.<br />I will fail you always to remember you.</p> |
| 29 | </section> | 29 | </section> |
| 30 | 30 | ||