1 files changed, 7 insertions, 9 deletions
diff --git a/swansong-alt.html b/swansong-alt.html
index 67855e0..03c4785 100644
--- a/swansong-alt.html
+++ b/swansong-alt.html

@@ -12,23 +12,19 @@
    <title>Swansong | Autocento of the breakfast table</title>
    <link rel="icon" type="image/png" href="img/favico.png" />
-    <link rel="stylesheet" type="text/css" href="./css/common.css">
+    <link rel="stylesheet" type="text/css" href="style.css">
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    <script src="./js/hylo.js" type="text/javascript"> </script>
-        <link rel="stylesheet" type="text/css" href="./css/verse.css">
+    <!--[if lt IE 9]>
-    <script src="./js/verse.js" type="text/javascript"> </script>
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-<body>
+<body id="swansong-alt" class="autocento">
    
-    <article id="container">
+    <article class="container">
        <header>
            <!-- title -->
            <h1 class="title">Swansong</h1>
@@ -40,7 +36,9 @@
        </header>
        
-        <section class="content verse"><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></section>
+        <section class="content verse">
+            <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>
+        </section>
    </article>
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