caps lock

this winter has been a hot 
Mesopotamian kettle 
of golden egrets
snorting coke off the cankle 
of a Fat Lie
masquerading as false dawn, confessing-
to a litany of All Tomorrows. 
this spring in my step
stems from a ludicrous root.
as all adventures do… this one
is keen to obliterate the obvious
with a tsunami of esoterica.
like tinsel on a snowflake
in your eye.