Remembering Denise Levertov.

• Author: Cusac, Anne-Marie
• Position: Column

This past December, a friend came up casually and asked, "Did you hear Denise Levertov died?" It was news to me. My friend thought I'd be interested because of Levertov's place as a leading poet and political activist. She didn't know that Denise Levertov was also my writing teacher at the Stanford University Creative Writing Program seven years ago.

I came to Levertov with admiration and ambivalence. She was notorious as a fierce and dogmatic teacher. "Denise Levertov teaches rhythm by pounding on the floor," said a college professor. "Levertov is a crusader" for her own brand of poetry, warned another when she learned I was going to study with her.

Levertov was not always imposing. She had a disarming cackle, rode an old bicycle around campus, and wore skirts and practical shoes. But the warnings weren't unfounded. Though I never saw her pound on the floor, she did not lose arguments, even when she was probably wrong. Students who showed her poems in rhyme and meter (which she called "anachronisms") or prose poetry (which she said didn't exist) suffered her wrath.

Having witnessed her outbursts, I remained wary of Levertov until the buildup to the Gulf War. Then things changed. One day in workshop, a friend of mine admitted he was having trouble concentrating because he was so upset. "What are we going to do about this?" asked Levertov. Her question implied responsibility, and a task.

It was uplifting to be organized by a woman with nearly thirty years' experience in the anti-war movement. Every Saturday, a dozen or so of her students and friends met in front of the Stanford Quad with homemade signs that read, "Poets for Peace." We took the train together to San Francisco and marched with church groups, anarchists, stilt walkers in black and white makeup, and thousands of other citizens.

On campus during the week, we organized read-ins against the war. They started small--we read to ourselves the first night. But as word spread, the library where we held them filled up. Our read-ins became a regular announcement at campus rallies.

Levertov was a committed protester, but not a dominating one. Once she had set us in motion, she let us go. At the rallies in her trenchcoat and sunglasses, she stood back from the crowds, an interested smile on her face. At the read-ins, she would sit at the far side of the room, silent and listening.

Levertov wrote her first overtly political poetry during the Vietnam War, at a time when the U.S. poetry...