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diff --git a/exampleSite/content/poem/a-julia.md b/exampleSite/content/poem/a-julia.md
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----
-title: A Julia de Burgos
-date: 2022-01-01T14:57:10+02:00
-draft: false
-type: poem
-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/poem/delayed.md b/exampleSite/content/poem/delayed.md
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----
-title: Delayed till she had ceased to know
-date: 2022-01-30T14:56:58+02:00
-draft: false
-type: poem
-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/poem/dreams.md b/exampleSite/content/poem/dreams.md
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----
-title: Dreams
-date: 2022-02-01T14:56:58+02:00
-draft: false
-type: poem
-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/poem/mypoem.md b/exampleSite/content/poem/mypoem.md
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--- a/exampleSite/content/poem/mypoem.md
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----
-title: My poem
-date: 2022-02-02T14:56:58+02:00
-draft: false
-type: poem
-author: Alex Gil
-editor: Alex Gil
-source: My imagination
----
-
-- The library is pretty
-- And so are books
-- Deep
diff --git a/exampleSite/content/poem/o-captain.md b/exampleSite/content/poem/o-captain.md
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----
-title: "O Captain! My Captain!"
-date: 2022-02-02T23:56:58+02:00
-draft: false
-type: poem
-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?