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1 files changed, 14 insertions, 15 deletions
diff --git a/swansong-alt.html b/swansong-alt.html index 6767573..4d3bce6 100644 --- a/swansong-alt.html +++ b/swansong-alt.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">
@@ -23,23 +24,21 @@
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">Swansong</h1>
32 <h1 class="subtitle">alternate version</h1>
26 33
27<article id="container"> 34 </header>
28 <header>
29 <!-- title -->
30 <h1 class="title">Swansong</h1>
31 <h1 class="subtitle">alternate version</h1>
32
33
34 </header>
35
36 <section class="content verse">
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>
38 </section>
39</article>
40 35
36 <section class="content verse">
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>
38 </section>
39 </article>
41 <nav> 40 <nav>
42 <a href="#" id="lozenge" title="Random page"> &loz; </a> 41 <a href="#" id="lozenge" title="Random page"> &loz; </a>
43 </nav> 42 </nav>
44</body> 43 </body>
45</html> 44</html>