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. --- something-simple.html | 5 ++--- 1 file changed, 2 insertions(+), 3 deletions(-) (limited to 'something-simple.html') diff --git a/something-simple.html b/something-simple.html index ab234da..0086c6f 100644 --- a/something-simple.html +++ b/something-simple.html @@ -33,9 +33,8 @@ -
-

in mammals the ratio between bladder size
and urethra is such that it takes
all of them the same time to piss. Take
for example the fact that Fibonnacci
numbers show up everywhere. How can you
look at this at all of this all of
these facts and tell me to my face there
is no God? And yet there isn’t
you murmer quietly into my ear over
and over like a low tide sounding
its lonely waves on an abandoned beach.
The ocean that birthed us holds us
still. We are tied, you and I, together
in her arms. The moon, caring father,
looks down from a dispassionate sky.

-
+ +

in mammals the ratio between bladder size
and urethra is such that it takes
all of them the same time to piss. Take
for example the fact that Fibonnacci
numbers show up everywhere. How can you
look at this at all of this all of
these facts and tell me to my face there
is no God? And yet there isn’t
you murmer quietly into my ear over
and over like a low tide sounding
its lonely waves on an abandoned beach.
The ocean that birthed us holds us
still. We are tied, you and I, together
in her arms. The moon, caring father,
looks down from a dispassionate sky.