From 2764ce38ff89667fc4073fb66cdd634caaffd613 Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001 From: Case Duckworth Date: Thu, 12 Mar 2015 13:01:16 -0700 Subject: Fix #9 - ekphrastisize some poems For ekphrastic articles, add `ekphrastic` node to YAML metadata. This node includes subnodes `image`, `title`, `alt`, `link`, and `class`. `image` provides a link to the local image--just include the file name with the extension, not the folder (all images should be in /img/.) `title` provides the title of the image, and the alt-text, if there is no `alt` node. `alt`, if it exists, provides the alt text for the image. `link`, if present, wraps the image in an `` tag--it should point to the source web page of the ekphrastic image. `class`, if present, sets the class(es) for the image, for styling. In this commit, I've set `ekphrastic` on the four articles that have them so far: 'The Death Zone,' 'AMBER alert,' 'The moon is gone,' and 'Man.' I've also updated .template.html with the changes, and updated README.md to reflect the changes in YAML structure. --- death-zone.html | 28 ++++++++++++++++------------ 1 file changed, 16 insertions(+), 12 deletions(-) (limited to 'death-zone.html') diff --git a/death-zone.html b/death-zone.html index daae5c1..c1786e5 100644 --- a/death-zone.html +++ b/death-zone.html @@ -43,18 +43,22 @@ -
-
- Philip Gould
Philip Gould
-
-

When I think of death I think
of Peter Falk in The Princess Bride patting
his pockets as he leaves the room

-

Life is a series of doors or so
they say but I ask them this
where does that last door lead?

-

For Falk maybe it leads backstage
a black-walled catered affair with stage
lights slowly baking stale muffins

-

Sweaty cheese leaking onto dried-out
grapes a chocolate fountain clogged
by some errant strawberry crown

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but this is not where it leads for you or
for me that door opens onto darkness marked
only by a trellis or the lid of a casket

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the door of the earth’s womb opening
finally to accept us and with us the dirt
not to grow more strawberries for Falk

-

but to pad his feet as he walks overhead
to visit someone he certainly cares about
but whose name is lost to posterity.

-
+
+ + Philip Gould + +
+ +

When I think of death I think
of Peter Falk in The Princess Bride patting
his pockets as he leaves the room

+

Life is a series of doors or so
they say but I ask them this
where does that last door lead?

+

For Falk maybe it leads backstage
a black-walled catered affair with stage
lights slowly baking stale muffins

+

Sweaty cheese leaking onto dried-out
grapes a chocolate fountain clogged
by some errant strawberry crown

+

but this is not where it leads for you or
for me that door opens onto darkness marked
only by a trellis or the lid of a casket

+

the door of the earth’s womb opening
finally to accept us and with us the dirt
not to grow more strawberries for Falk

+

but to pad his feet as he walks overhead
to visit someone he certainly cares about
but whose name is lost to posterity.