Forage

I swallowed nettles just to taste again the way you did,
swill it down with ocean of whiskey,
stole away as wild, white fox royal hunted,
did it just to pass the time,
and in those plumes of spring
twinkling when warmth was free
took each memory and locked them down
beside the tales of some lad when I was seventeen
beside an old, lost town I drowned in.
In all the palaces created in hollow fields of my mind,
I pull out weeds 'til one collapses,
create riddles until out of me births ninety nine rhymes
left for someone else to put back together.