Denise Levertov with lilies |
No adult had ever dressed or draped herself across a desk like this before. At least not in my presence. More than that, Levertov was having fun with us. She laughed and chatted in her New York-British accent. There were perhaps 30 people in the room.
Hearing Denise Levertov while still in my teens left a lifelong impression. Her essays The Poet in the World were the first critical essays I ever read on poetry and I still refer to them today. Most of all, her pleasure in the word and in conveying that pleasure to her audience is a constant model for me.
The complexity of her religious background --- her German father was born into a highly honored rabbinical family but converted to the Anglican Church when he moved to England. Levertov took up her own Christianity as subject midway through her life --- and it did not speak to me -- but her earlier and her later poetry did.
Here is a remembrance of Levertov found on the Image Journal blog by Murray Bodo -- this is a small part of the article but the one that I loved.
Here is a remembrance of Levertov found on the Image Journal blog by Murray Bodo -- this is a small part of the article but the one that I loved.
Denise Levertov lived her last years in Seattle. I've learned from local musicians that she was "demanding" to work with as no instrument could be made to match the music in her head. And yet she continually allowed her poems to be set to music. The sense of sound and harmony was paramount to her. The Jewish traditions still alive.
Here is an early villanelle:
Obsessions
Maybe it is true we have to return
to the black air of ashcan city
because it is there the most life was burned,
as ghosts or criminals return?
But no, the city has no monopoly
of intense life. The dust burned
golden or violet in the wide land
to which we ran away, images
of passion sprang out of the land
as whirlwinds or red flowers, your hands
opened in anguish or clenched in violence
under that sun, and clasped my hands
in that place to which we will not return
where so much happened that no one else noticed,
where the city's ashes that we brought with us
flew into the intense sky still burning.
Denise Levertov, 1958 from "Collected Earlier Poems:1940-1960" New Directions Publishing Company
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