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182 chapter 10 10 The Borderland 1989-1992 The borderland—that’s where, if one knew how, one would establish residence. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . one almost sees what lies beyond the window, past the frame, beyond. “The Life of Art”1 Levertov was a peripatetic who changed residence more than twenty times, not including shuttling from Somerville to Stanford for eight years, fifteen years of summering in Maine, and numerous trips to Mexico to tend to her mother. She traveled abroad often, visiting more than sixteen countries,2 sometimes multiple times, and was frequently on the road with poetry readings and lecturing. She claimed to be on a journey and to have no home.3 She was adamant that leaving Somerville would not be difficult; after all, her friendships were long distance. While her commitment to an artistic journey seemed to make place irrelevant , place nonetheless was important to her. As she said, she was attentive to place. And now in her mid-sixties Levertov approached the move to this new place, Seattle, with relish. She had visited the city previously but knew few people there except her former student Emily Warn; Douglas Thorpe, a faculty member at Seattle Pacific University; and her old friend Eve Triem. There were pragmatic enticements for this move—a lower cost of living, a more temperate climate, and the possibility of a more reclusive life. The city had its lure: a lively poetry and arts scene, a strong justice and peace community—including the presence of the Catholic Archbishop Raymond Hunthausen, whom she admired—an Anglican Cathedral about which she had heard good things, and proximity to the wilderness of the Pacific Northwest,4 a place where nature dwarfed the human world. It was this landscape of mist and mountains that would shape her and emerge as a central theme in her poetry. Although she conceived of the “borderland” as a metaphorical destination, the Northwest would become a place where the The borderland 183 artist, the pilgrim, and the witness could see “what lies beyond the window, past the frame, beyond.” Her decision to move was made in January 1989. She completed the winter term at Stanford, put the Glover Circle house up for sale, and in late May went to Seattle to look at real estate. On the first day of her search she found a two-story brick house at 5535 Seward Park Avenue South. It was in a middle -class neighborhood and a short walk to Seward Park, a dense forestlike park that jutted out into Lake Washington and provided a vista of four tall poplar trees on its far side. She purchased the house and moved in August. Perched on top of a steep incline, the house’s kitchen and workroom offered a view of the majestic volcanic Mount Rainier towering some fourteen thousand feet above the lake. Entrance to the house required a steep climb up a staircase winding past a fig tree and a cascading grapevine. On the first floor were the kitchen/dining room, an area where she could put the large wooden table that once belonged to Race Newton, her New York City neighbor ; a living room that provided space for her “black-cat” piano; and two bedrooms, the smaller of which she would claim for herself, the other to be used as a guest room. The house had a fireplace, a deck at the rear surrounded by abundant foliage, and a cellar in which she could stash some of her more than six thousand books. The second floor had two rooms. One could be used as a workroom, the other as a study in which a large closet would ultimately be converted to an oratory. From the exterior the house was indistinguishable from others on the block; however, the later addition of double mailboxes to accommodate her voluminous mail would set it apart. But the charm of the house was its access to Seward Park, a place for her daily walk on established paths and rabbit trails that could bring her deep into the forest where she could gather mushrooms. She came to consider the park her domain, reminding her of the Wanstead and Valentine parks of Ilford. Levertov had no regrets about her decision to move to Seattle. She rode shotgun cross-country in a car, with all her possessions stuffed in a Ryder’s truck driven by one of the Fussiners’ sons. It was a time of personal happiness and public acclaim. She received the Jerome...

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