you fucked up

your red regret wraps you
in a laughable inconsequence
the earth absorbs the wine
as if you were never there
so you fucked up so what
look to the wood near you
along this path a river runs
its rambling way to the sea
the past is never more than past
take stock of the time at hand
then pack up your remains and go
you are your only bridge home

(from a work in progress: “Arcana,” Vcups, February 8, 2014)

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