Lothlorien
Fairest realm of the elves remaining
In Middle-earth during the Third Age
But also a dirty co-op on the shore
Of Lake Mendota in Madison where
I somehow lived in college.
Cold rooms, the windows single-
Paned. The heavy fire doors tagged
In circled A’s. No one ever mopped
The marks of boots bought at discount
At the Army-Navy store off the floor.
The books left by past residents
Contained everything one needed
To know about how to avoid taxes,
Drafts, debt collectors, capitalism.
This before wokeness, back when
Everyone was still asleep.
Somnambulism of the early aughts.
A past time was fantasizing about
Killing Neocons. Evil was particular
People: Bush, Cheney, Rice,
Rumsfeld, Ashcroft, Wolfowitz.
One year we hosted the Anarchist Bookfair.
Gutter punks hopped trains in
From dying midsized Midwest cities
(think Akron). I was sitting in the garden
When one of them came up to me
And said, “I hope you have good dental
Insurance because I’m about to knock
Your fucking teeth out.” Luckily
He saw me turn white as my teeth.
“You’re Jeff, right?” “No. Austin.”
“Oh. Do you know where Jeff is?”
He said, communicating nonviolently.
House meetings. Consensus. Sparkle
Fingers. Few used pronouns yet.
Where did they all go, those kids
With rattails and principles?
There was no one to follow,
No where to follow no one to.
Only a sense that things were awry,
That something we’d never had
Had been taken from us before
We’d even had a chance to hold it,
And in lieu of holding that, we held
Meetings, handles of vodka, space.