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Diffstat (limited to 'deathstrumpet.html')
| -rw-r--r-- | deathstrumpet.html | 47 |
1 files changed, 24 insertions, 23 deletions
| diff --git a/deathstrumpet.html b/deathstrumpet.html index e582aa4..340d8e5 100644 --- a/deathstrumpet.html +++ b/deathstrumpet.html | |||
| @@ -1,5 +1,6 @@ | |||
| 1 | <!DOCTYPE html> | 1 | <!DOCTYPE html> |
| 2 | <!-- Template for compiled 'Autocento' documents --> | 2 | <!-- AUTOCENTO OF THE BREAKFAST TABLE --> |
| 3 | <!-- vim: fdm=indent --> | ||
| 3 | <html lang="en"> | 4 | <html lang="en"> |
| 4 | <head> | 5 | <head> |
| 5 | <meta charset="utf-8"> | 6 | <meta charset="utf-8"> |
| @@ -23,32 +24,32 @@ | |||
| 23 | <!-- <script src="js/external.js"> </script> --> | 24 | <!-- <script src="js/external.js"> </script> --> |
| 24 | </head> | 25 | </head> |
| 25 | <body> | 26 | <body> |
| 27 | |||
| 28 | <article id="container"> | ||
| 29 | <header> | ||
| 30 | <!-- title --> | ||
| 31 | <h1 class="title">Death’s trumpet</h1> | ||
| 32 | |||
| 26 | 33 | ||
| 27 | <article id="container"> | 34 | <!-- epigraph --> |
| 28 | <header> | 35 | <div class="epigraph"> |
| 29 | <!-- title --> | 36 | <p>So Death plays his little <a href="apollo11.html">fucking</a> trumpet. So what, says the boy.</p> |
| 30 | <h1 class="title">Death’s trumpet</h1> | 37 | </div> |
| 31 | 38 | <div class="epigraph-attrib">Larry Levis</div> | |
| 32 | 39 | ||
| 33 | 40 | ||
| 34 | <!-- epigraph --> | ||
| 35 | <div class="epigraph"> | ||
| 36 | <p>So Death plays his little <a href="apollo11.html">fucking</a> trumpet. So what, says the boy.</p> | ||
| 37 | </div> | ||
| 38 | <div class="epigraph-attrib">Larry Levis</div> | ||
| 39 | </header> | 41 | </header> |
| 40 | 42 | ||
| 41 | <section class="content verse"> | 43 | <section class="content verse"> |
| 42 | <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> | 44 | <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> |
| 43 | <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> | 45 | <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> |
| 44 | <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> | 46 | <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> |
| 45 | <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> | 47 | <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> |
| 46 | <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> | 48 | <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> |
| 47 | </section> | 49 | </section> |
| 48 | </article> | 50 | </article> |
| 49 | |||
| 50 | <nav> | 51 | <nav> |
| 51 | <a href="#" id="lozenge" title="Random page"> ◊ </a> | 52 | <a href="#" id="lozenge" title="Random page"> ◊ </a> |
| 52 | </nav> | 53 | </nav> |
| 53 | </body> | 54 | </body> |
| 54 | </html> | 55 | </html> |