From 643d9ceb308c206a6e572c7c555168ff0ca60bc1 Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001 From: Case Duckworth Date: Fri, 27 Mar 2015 15:40:42 -0700 Subject: Fix #5: Verse typesetting Thanks to the pandoc-discussion thread at , line breaks in verse have been converted to s, which enables the CSS to style them with hanging indents, given a too-small viewport. This commit also includes a makefile edit to reflect this change, and the Haskell source and executable of the pandoc filter. --- last-bastion.html | 8 ++++---- 1 file changed, 4 insertions(+), 4 deletions(-) (limited to 'last-bastion.html') diff --git a/last-bastion.html b/last-bastion.html index f3ab4f7..d79a3dc 100644 --- a/last-bastion.html +++ b/last-bastion.html @@ -36,10 +36,10 @@
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Dimly remembered celebrity chefs shuffle
down the cold and darkened highways of the heart.
They are the last personality left. They are [the meek
who inherited the heart]meek, what was left of it.

-

Without food to cook in new or exciting ways
nor audience to gasp and cackle, the chefs
of the heart quietly waste away while staring
doe-eyed into now-empty Safeway windows
checking under the dusty produce shelves
for something they pray the rats haven’t found yet.

-

Years ago, the economy of the heart boomed
and there was food everywhere. Produce
piled high in pyramids of devotion, meat in
gilded glass cases opulent under fluorescence,
dairy which ran like the mythical river toward
cereals hot and cold. Under it all, thrumming
like great stone wheels on sand under a hot sun
near a river where reeds sang in the wind
the heart produced and gave reward for hard labor.

-

No one knows when it all ended. No one can say
if it was the heart that dried up or the heart’s supply.
Either way, food of the heart became scarcer and scarcer.
People began dying, not of starvation
but of a certain facial expression that could only
be described as desperation. Now
all that are left are the celebrity chefs, last bastion
of a once mighty empire of the [heart
are reduced to husks]heart blown dry by wind.

+

Dimly remembered celebrity chefs shuffledown the cold and darkened highways of the heart.They are the last personality left. They are [the meekwho inherited the heart]meek, what was left of it.

+

Without food to cook in new or exciting waysnor audience to gasp and cackle, the chefsof the heart quietly waste away while staringdoe-eyed into now-empty Safeway windowschecking under the dusty produce shelvesfor something they pray the rats haven’t found yet.

+

Years ago, the economy of the heart boomedand there was food everywhere. Producepiled high in pyramids of devotion, meat ingilded glass cases opulent under fluorescence,dairy which ran like the mythical river towardcereals hot and cold. Under it all, thrumminglike great stone wheels on sand under a hot sunnear a river where reeds sang in the windthe heart produced and gave reward for hard labor.

+

No one knows when it all ended. No one can sayif it was the heart that dried up or the heart’s supply.Either way, food of the heart became scarcer and scarcer.People began dying, not of starvationbut of a certain facial expression that could onlybe described as desperation. Nowall that are left are the celebrity chefs, last bastionof a once mighty empire of the [heartare reduced to husks]heart blown dry by wind.