Fix content type names

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diff --git a/exampleSite/content/poems/a-julia.md b/exampleSite/content/poems/a-julia.md
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+---
+title: A Julia de Burgos
+date: 2022-01-01T14:57:10+02:00
+draft: false
+author: Julia de Burgos
+editor: Alex Gil
+source: Ciudad Seva
+---
+
+- Ya las gentes murmuran que yo soy tu enemiga
+- porque dicen que en verso doy al mundo mi yo.
+
+- Mienten, *Julia de Burgos*. Mienten, Julia de Burgos.
+- La que se alza en mis versos no es tu voz: es mi voz
+- porque tú eres [ropaje](http://www.spanishdict.com/translate/ropaje) y la esencia soy yo; y el más
+- profundo abismo se tiende entre las dos.
+
+- Tú eres fria muñeca de mentira social,
+- y yo, viril destello de la humana verdad.
+
+- Tú, miel de cortesana hipocresías; yo no;
+- que en todos mis poemas desnudo el corazón.
+
+- Tú eres como tu mundo, egoísta;
+- yo no; que en todo me lo juego a ser lo que soy yo.
+
+- Tú eres sólo la grave señora señorona; yo no,
+- yo soy la vida, la fuerza, la mujer.
+
+- Tú eres de tu marido, de tu amo; yo no;
+- yo de nadie, o de todos, porque a todos, a
+- todos en mi limpio sentir y en mi pensar me doy.
+
+- Tú te rizas el pelo y te pintas; yo no;
+- a mí me riza el viento, a mí me pinta el sol.
+
+- Tú eres dama casera, resignada, sumisa,
+- atada a los prejuicios de los hombres; yo no;
+- que yo soy Rocinante corriendo desbocado
+- olfateando horizontes de justicia de Dios.
+
+- Tú en ti misma no mandas;
+- a ti todos te mandan; en ti mandan tu esposo, tus
+- padres, tus parientes, el cura, el modista,
+- el teatro, el casino, el auto,
+- las alhajas, el banquete, el champán, el cielo
+- y el infierno, y el que dirán social.
+
+- En mí no, que en mí manda mi solo corazón,
+- mi solo pensamiento; quien manda en mí soy yo.
+
+- Tú, flor de aristocracia; y yo, la flor del pueblo.
+- Tú en ti lo tienes todo y a todos se
+- lo debes, mientras que yo, mi nada a nadie se la debo.
+
+- Tú, clavada al estático dividendo ancestral,
+- y yo, un uno en la cifra del divisor
+- social somos el duelo a muerte que se acerca fatal.
+
+- Cuando las multitudes corran alborotadas
+- dejando atrás cenizas de injusticias quemadas,
+- y cuando con la tea de las siete virtudes,
+- tras los siete pecados, corran las multitudes,
+- contra ti, y contra todo lo injusto y lo inhumano,
+- yo iré en medio de ellas con la tea en la mano.
diff --git a/exampleSite/content/poems/delayed.md b/exampleSite/content/poems/delayed.md
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+---
+title: Delayed till she had ceased to know
+date: 2022-01-30T14:56:58+02:00
+draft: false
+author: Emily Dickinson
+editor: Alex Gil
+source: "Bartleby.com"
+---
+
+- DELAYED till she had ceased to know,
+- Delayed till in its vest of snow
+- {:.indent-2}Her loving bosom lay.
+- An hour behind the fleeting breath,
+- Later by just an hour than death,—
+- {:.indent-2}Oh, lagging yesterday!
+
+
+- Could she have guessed that it would be;
+- Could but a crier of the glee
+- {:.indent-2}Have climbed the distant hill;
+- Had not the bliss so slow a pace,—
+- Who knows but this surrendered face
+- {:.indent-2}Were undefeated still?
+
+
+- Oh, if there may departing be
+- Any forgot by victory
+- {:.indent-2}In her imperial round,
+- Show them this meek apparelled thing,
+- That could not stop to be a king,
+- {:.indent-2}Doubtful if it be crowned!
diff --git a/exampleSite/content/poems/dreams.md b/exampleSite/content/poems/dreams.md
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+---
+title: Dreams
+date: 2022-02-01T14:56:58+02:00
+draft: false
+author: Langston Hughes
+editor: Alex Gil
+source: Project Guttenberg
+---
+
+- Hold fast to dreams
+- For if dreams die
+- Life is a broken-winged bird
+- That cannot fly.
+- Hold fast to dreams
+- For when dreams go
+- Life is a barren field
+- Frozen with snow.
diff --git a/exampleSite/content/poems/mypoem.md b/exampleSite/content/poems/mypoem.md
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+++ b/exampleSite/content/poems/mypoem.md
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+---
+title: My poem
+date: 2022-02-02T14:56:58+02:00
+draft: false
+author: Alex Gil
+editor: Alex Gil
+source: My imagination
+---
+
+- The library is pretty
+- And so are books
+- Deep
diff --git a/exampleSite/content/poems/o-captain.md b/exampleSite/content/poems/o-captain.md
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+---
+title: "O Captain! My Captain!"
+date: 2022-02-02T23:56:58+02:00
+draft: false
+author: Walt Whitman
+editor: Alex Gil
+source: Poetry Foundation
+---
+
+- O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done;[^1]
+- The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won,
+- The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
+- While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;
+- {{< indent 3 >}}But O heart! heart! heart!
+- {{< indent 4 >}}O the bleeding drops of red,
+- {{< indent 5 >}}Where on the deck my Captain lies,
+- {{< indent 6 >}}Fallen cold and dead.
+- {{< br >}}
+- O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
+- Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle[^2] trills,
+- For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding,
+- For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
+- {{< indent 3 >}}Here Captain! dear father!
+- {{< indent 4 >}}This arm beneath your head!
+- {{< indent 5 >}}It is some dream that on the deck,
+- {{< indent 6 >}}You’ve fallen cold and dead.
+- {{< br >}}
+- My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still,[^3]
+- My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will,
+- The ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done,
+- From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;
+- {{< indent 3 >}}Exult O shores, and ring O bells!
+- {{< indent 4 >}}But I with mournful tread,
+- {{< indent 5 >}}Walk the deck my Captain lies,
+- {{< indent 6 >}}Fallen cold and dead.
+
+
+---
+
+## Footnotes
+<!-- editorconfig-checker-disable -->
+[^1]:
+
+	The author had just landed in La Guardia Airport after the flight captain died. All the passengers stood up to applaud the co-pilot. We have it in good authority that the event in question led Yoko Ono to write her "Letter to John":
+
+	> - On a windy day let's go flying
+	> - There may be no trees to rest on
+	> - There may be no clouds to ride
+	> - But we'll have our wings and the wind will be with us
+	> - That's enough for me, that's enough for me.
+	{:.poetry}
+<!-- editorconfig-checker-enable -->
+[^2]: The bugle is a small trumpet implicated in the military industrial complex.
+
+[^3]: Another footnote. Why not?