Each morning before leaving for work, Tim McPeek pushes, prods and struggles to perfect his poetic expression. He is a serious, committed poet who is employed as a cook's helper in Governor's; he also serves as a C.S.E.A. union steward. Far from shrinking from the blue-collar world he inhabits, he seizes upon it as a continuing source of inspiration, along with studying the poetic cannon, observing the world in a thoughtful, sometimes trenchant, manner.

The 42-year-old Orchard Park High School graduate began writing while still an elementary-school student. "When I was in high school, I met Michael C. Flanigan, who was poet-in-residence at Buffalo State College a number of years ago. After graduating from high school, I spent two years living with him and his family, serving an apprenticeship, if you will. It was a valuable, formative experience."

Still, McPeek considers himself "a late-bloomer because such a long gestation period is required to become a poet." Before arriving at UB, he worked for 18 years as a home health-care aide, first in Buffalo, later in Boston, where the opportunity to assist elderly Russian-émigré clients enriched his art, as he listened to their stories and even picked up serviceable Russian in the process.

But for McPeek, any job, no matter how well-respected, is merely the vehicle to support his life's work. His position at UB allows him to work full-time, yet have mornings free for writing. Because of his academic-year appointment, the summers are open for tackling longer poetic forms, or for enriching himself in the other arts, such as film.

McPeek acknowledges that his lack of higher education has its disadvantages, but it can never be a barrier to serious art. "Certainly, I would like a better alignment between my poetic activity, my art activity and this large-time commitment to a full-time job. Art is so demanding and entails a serious effort. In an ideal situation, I would want to have a great deal of freedom to accompany my writing, to be able to lavish time on it. Because of my background, however, I have a very limited way of supporting my poetry, not having gone to college, not having other skills."

But, says McPeek, this was an entirely conscious decision. During all these years, he remained tightly focused on achievement in art, specifically in poetry. In that sense, he views his job as cook's helper as worthy an occupation as any, to support a life in poetry. "There are almost no poets who can support themselves on poetry alone," he asserts. "Being a professor of English at UB can be viewed as a job that supports poetry, just like being a cook's assistant. For me, the issues are: How are you working with the fact that you must support your poetry in some way? How do you make your day job the best possible resource for your creative commitment, for your responsibilities as a poet?"

While mopping the floor of the Governor's basement kitchen each evening, McPeek often reflects on the nature of poetic creation. His poetry has not gone unrecognized: In 1997, he was named one of four writers-in-residence at the Just Buffalo Literary Center. For a presentation at the Buffalo and Erie County Public Library as part of this residency, he drew on his background in Russian to better explicate untranslated passages in Jennifer Baines's critical study of the Russian poet Osip Mandelstam, who suffered greatly during the Stalinist era. Such are McPeek's contributions to the academic world that he only peripherally inhabits. He frankly wishes there were more "reciprocity" among poets of dissimilar backgrounds. He has never been invited to read on campus, for example.

Even so, McPeek gratefully acknowledges the support he has received in the university's Poetry/Rare Books Collection, where staff assistant Sue Michel has cheerfully welcomed him and put him at ease about delving into, and studying, the rich 20th-century holdings. "Associate curator Michael D. Basinski has been extremely helpful in terms of bringing work to my attention that I might be interested in, and also in being supportive of my own work," McPeek says. Basinski put him in touch with William Sylvester, UB emeritus professor of English and editor of Buffalo Vortex, which this year published an excerpt of McPeek's "Peloria." Especially gratifying are the simple messages of support from several UB students, who have expressed interest in his work, even mounting a few McPeek poems on one student homepage.

BASEMENT KITCHEN Lever, wheel and axle, pulley, screw, wedge, and The ramp you 11’4" CLEARANCE walk down. Up a four-step flight at the loading dock. Left. Past dumpsters, barrels of fryer grease black as crude to uniforms on hangers—find your size. A clean apron adjustable Made In heavy-duty rides the neck knot at waist. Denim UB cap and nametag. “Hey jon. Hey mary. What’s up, michelle? Hey john, how’s the leg?” —Tim McPeek

While his situation in life entails both limitation and opportunity, McPeek prefers to dwell on the latter. "I appreciate the blue-collar world that is very different from the world of tenure and sabbaticals," he says. "The positions in the kitchen are precarious, even for people who've been there for a long time. I have the chance to have an impact, to talk about, to bring to light, whole areas of essential experiences that don't get much attention otherwise. That's what I live, that's what I see on my job."

As for his day-to-day life in poetry, "It's a tremendous amount of work. All of us are struggling to accomplish something of value. It's very difficult to write a poem—the standard is very high. But failure is an enriching aspect. Awards, publications, etc. are not indicative—in and of themselves—of poetic quality. My responsibility is the difficult and slow development of quality in my work. What really matters to me is that I have an inner sense of my poetry—learning, groping, struggling, failing, trying to honor poetry and the human condition."

As for future directions, McPeek would like to pursue a natural affinity for the university's highly praised Poetics Program, whose founding director is the distinguished American poet Robert Creeley. "I have benefited very much from the Poetics Program on campus; it has a well-deserved reputation for experimentation, for innovation." He also would like to pursue longer poetic works on a consistent basis and to work with artists in other spheres on mutually engaging projects.

McPeek offers a lesson in learning that he has found instructive in forging his art. While working with Russian clients in Boston, he was struck by their dramatic accounts of sometimes-bitter life experiences. "I learned Russian without a formal course, and so not with the accomplishment that a person might achieve through formal study or time spent abroad. But there in Boston, I talked to people who had witnessed the blockade of Leningrad, who had served on the front." While mopping the floor one day, he heard one Russian-speaking client talk about her parents "who had died of hunger." "You don't hear that in America," says McPeek. "That's what being alive-being a poet-is all about, learning from everyone and everything around you. And it happens in the kitchen, too."