a. he would have been disgusted with the lesser quality of leaders
    running this country.

b. he would have deplored banks foreclosing
    on farms faster than the speed of profit.

c. he would have hailed rap music as the only
    social voice with any integrity left in America.

d. he would probably have authored "People
    Everyday And Other Poems."

   You decide. I want to make comment on the soulful observational powers Daniel Crocker employs in this first book of verse "People Everyday And Other Poems" which leaps beyond the creative - writing - cours nonsense that stirs nothing worthwhile. The honest among us will point to the Soul as the center of any moving work of art. Sadly, though, as we slip into the third millenium, one could not locate soul in American poetry if you ransacked the university poet's theology department.

   Blue-collar experience and aspirations seem frozen in videocassettes of "Rocky" as if sealing off additional commentary. Yet we must not lose sight of the fact that the story of America and its vaulted "Dream" does not orbit the academic or the captain of industry. It is still about the common man carving out a place for himself and his family in a world of stone. Theirs is the transition from dirt floor to carpet. Their labour is covered in sweat and blood. Their money is earned; not inherited. Their work ethic ancient and unpolluted.

    In the consumer-made universe of Western culture---products are devices deliberately separating humanity from Nature and its mortal fears:   "Dead Men:

    I saw a photograph today/of a dirty brown skeleton 4000 years old... He was in a fetal position/fear and hands near/2 empty bowls/ mouth a gaping hole. This is how we really die--/curled up like babies and scared--/not laid out in suits/hands crossed over chests and eyes closed."

   Crocker's compassion never taints the brutal truth of a complex world ready and willing to devour dreams and desires regardless of one's background or station in life:

   "People Everyday:

People everyday
turn into what
they were
not meant to be...
What other people want them to be
to zombies
to machines
to madmen
foaming lucifers.
People everyday
troubled become addicted
clasp
rage tightly between walled teeth.
People everyday are
connected
by eyes to screens.
People everyday
are lonely
are afraid
losing children
childhood
taking last breaths.
People everyday
have seen better times...
We are/people everyday
pretty much
what people have turned us into
after what we turned them into
and
it is time to be born."

   Daniel Crocker is a poet of immense value; not because he is some sort of literary genius (only a greater body of work and history makes such judgement) but precisely because he is producing work other American poets are not: writing that speaks to and about real people.  We are not pummeled with ancient Greek references.  Pseduo-Steinbeckian romantic notions do not spill into our living rooms. Suburbia is not held up as the only place civilized human beings reside.  And five hundred academic journal credits are mercyfully absent---one of the few sure signs the verse is not infect with yuppie self-indulgence.

   Instead the readers are visited with crisp observations of average people in everyday discovery of what makes their lives work and hurt. Individual social evolution or devolution are carefully described in plain terms or venacular that heightens the impact of many fearless portraits of distressed humanity. Crocker reminds us (and we do need reminding) what good poetry is all about: a big heart, an honest eye and a couple score of sincere words. Don't punish this poet for the sins of the literary establishment. Support his work and others like it. You'll save the 21st century for the next generation of poets.