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. --- finding-the-lion.html | 15 +++++++-------- 1 file changed, 7 insertions(+), 8 deletions(-) (limited to 'finding-the-lion.html') diff --git a/finding-the-lion.html b/finding-the-lion.html index 0dd9173..9d33df7 100644 --- a/finding-the-lion.html +++ b/finding-the-lion.html @@ -37,14 +37,13 @@ -
-

Tonight, as I look up, the stars
hide themselves in shame. There is no moon.
The sky is black, like my desk,

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nothing like a raven. The streetlights
look on the scene disinterested.
They have their own small gossips of the dark.

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I came here to find the Lion, old
friend, but he will not show his flanks, his
paws, his shoulders, his mane. I

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can hear him laughing from his hiding-place
behind the moon, nonexistent, under
the cold dead earth. The mountain is in front

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of me now, a hole of stars daring me
to pierce it with my sight. The lion’s still
laughing; the streetlamps talk about

-

me amongst themselves, and go out. There
never was any lion, they tell me.
You only hear the wind on the mountain.

-
+ +

Tonight, as I look up, the stars
hide themselves in shame. There is no moon.
The sky is black, like my desk,

+

nothing like a raven. The streetlights
look on the scene disinterested.
They have their own small gossips of the dark.

+

I came here to find the Lion, old
friend, but he will not show his flanks, his
paws, his shoulders, his mane. I

+

can hear him laughing from his hiding-place
behind the moon, nonexistent, under
the cold dead earth. The mountain is in front

+

of me now, a hole of stars daring me
to pierce it with my sight. The lion’s still
laughing; the streetlamps talk about

+

me amongst themselves, and go out. There
never was any lion, they tell me.
You only hear the wind on the mountain.