update from sparkleup
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Traceback (most recent call last):
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File "/usr/local/bin/vimwiki_markdown", line 8, in <module>
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sys.exit(main())
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File "/usr/local/lib/python3.9/dist-packages/vimwiki_markdown.py", line 148, in main
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content = md.convert(content)
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File "/usr/local/lib/python3.9/dist-packages/markdown/core.py", line 268, in convert
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newRoot = treeprocessor.run(root)
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File "/usr/local/lib/python3.9/dist-packages/markdown/extensions/footnotes.py", line 372, in run
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footnotesDiv = self.footnotes.makeFootnotesDiv(root)
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File "/usr/local/lib/python3.9/dist-packages/markdown/extensions/footnotes.py", line 179, in makeFootnotesDiv
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self.parser.parseChunk(surrogate_parent, self.footnotes[id])
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File "/usr/local/lib/python3.9/dist-packages/markdown/blockparser.py", line 105, in parseChunk
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self.parseBlocks(parent, text.split('\n\n'))
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File "/usr/local/lib/python3.9/dist-packages/markdown/blockparser.py", line 123, in parseBlocks
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if processor.run(parent, blocks) is not False:
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File "/usr/local/lib/python3.9/dist-packages/markdown_verse/extension.py", line 69, in run
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el.text += '\n\n'
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AttributeError: 'NoneType' object has no attribute 'text'
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@ -18,14 +18,10 @@ Our years are delineated by the seasons, though, and the count of them is so few
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The power of the cyclical nature of the year is of an importance that draws the heart onward, and that which moves the heart is fair game for poetry. The demarcations for this cycle are the two solstices, with secondary markers at the equinoxes. One finds oneself at the longest night of the year and knows that, from there onwards, it is downhill into summer.[^slopes] One finds oneself at the longest day of the year and before oneself lies cooler times.
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[^slopes]: I am not sold on this metaphor; uphill bears both positive and negative connotations, and it is difficult to say which to apply when. Ask a poet.
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Dwale (1979--2021; it/its) was a poet living in the Southern United States. Its work is described as focusing on "altered states of consciousness...poverty, addiction, subjectivity, and the transience of existence" \parencite{dwale}, though to reduce its body of work to any or all of those provides an inexact picture of its writing. This will be touched on in a future section on translation, but needless to say, this paper will focus on its work through the lens of seasonal progression.
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The concept of seasons and seasonality is well known within poetry. Exploring that is beyond the scope of this paper.[^abilities] To rely on synecdoche is the best one can manage with a topic so large. To that end, it is worth exploring the poetry of Dwale in such a context.
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[^abilities]: Or perhaps my abilities as an author.
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## Spring
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Spring is commonly associated with newness and beginnings. New growth, new life, new warmth under a new sun. On of green things: of buds greening bare trees, of grass poking through late snows, or perhaps the greenery of gardening as one buys flats of flowers or sows vegetable seeds in the expectation of a harvest later on.
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@ -50,8 +46,6 @@ Some of the reason for this paucity of spring-themed poetry is doubtless selecti
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Instead, we are presented with works that focus on the fact that spring is also the time for harrowing. It's the time for tearing up that which was old, the earth that was compacted by time and snow, in order to make room for that growth which is going to come soon, whether we like it or not (the topic of unwanted growth is a topic for later in the year[^weeds])
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[^weeds]: Or perhaps later in life, when cancer may rear its ugly head. It is proving quite difficult to write about even seasons of new growth and beginnings without death-thoughts creeping in.
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This untitled work will stand as our example:
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'''
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@ -457,3 +451,9 @@ In the cedar-limbs.
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```
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## Notes
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[^slopes]: I am not sold on this metaphor; uphill bears both positive and negative connotations, and it is difficult to say which to apply when. Ask a poet.
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[^abilities]: Or perhaps my abilities as an author.
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[^weeds]: Or perhaps later in life, when cancer may rear its ugly head. It is proving quite difficult to write about even seasons of new growth and beginnings without death-thoughts creeping in.
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