Headed to find something.
every, day.
Never been
so good at searching and sometimes
that leaves me working, pretty hard,
but without complaint.

I’ll be the first to tell you
it’s just simple math.
There’s a job to be done
hours in the day
a minute, to work.

Find myself working more
often than not,
with family and friends
finding themselves without me and
still -

searching – I go.
for what?

For this -
for life – for the ability to send out a
personal search party for my dreams
and not be called crazy when I’m still
stuck in the woods -

we instead, exist here together, my friends.
I’ve found you  - those

who get it…

Those that understand, these hands were made
to write – and this brain is full of ideas
so simple, we can all find something when we

Through these words - 

and my presence
and your ears
and our hearts – I find myself not feeling like
i need any more material -

I can write my way through this situation and
find myself out on the other end.

The jig is up -

I’m no writer.

I’m a liver
a lover
human being


prophet, without many to speak for -

profits that is…

That’s not this.
See this thing

That I am still finding…

I’ve figured out – it found me long ago.

So don’t worry,
everything is going to be just, fine.

It Sure Has Been A While…


Sorry to leave you for so long, my friends. It just dawned on me that I might have new readers and friends, followers, and people who deserve something way more up to date. I have updated my CV and Bio on this site – and will begin to add again to it, on a regular basis. I am trying to find time these days, for everything. Those of you who know me, know I am doing quite a bit of freelance, and other marketing and advertising things, to make sure the bills are paid – and that still, in their own way, make me super grateful and appreciative of those opportunities for work! I am lucky is what I am saying – just busy! But that is no excuse.

I am back!

Where Have I been?
If you were wondering:

Boston played host to me recently. Lawrence High School, Lawrence Boys and Girls Club, Northern Essex Community College, and CDCPS, all opened their doors to me. Performances were had, workshops were fruitful, and the time and work, so very appreciated.

Where Am I Going?
If you are wondering:

Thursday and Friday October 30th and 31st ALL DAY – I will head South to Las Cruces, NM – Centennial High and Las Cruces High will have space and time for me, for two days worth of workshops and performances.

Sunday November 9th 4pm-7pm, Come on down to Tractor Brewing Wells Park and catch, “I’LL Drink To That,” Bring What You Can Edition – a variety show I host, monthly. This month, bring a non-perishable food item, so we can help to feed the less fortunate.

Wednesday Nov12th – Saturday Nov15th, ALL DAY – I will be headed to a Kellogg convening and hopefully be sharing great ideas, experiences, and new inspirations from the conference itself. These are always greatly appreciated experiences.

And then we are on to The Holidays as they would say, my friends – and I am sure there will be things then, but until then, I just wanted to say thanks for sticking around, and remember all the fun we’ve had – so dig around on this blog and find something you like, until I can offer up something new for all of you!



Inspired ~ Energized ~ Ready for MORE!

My Friends,

It is from the Tamaya Resort, in Bernalillo, New Mexico along side more than two dozen former and current Kellogg Fellows, that I write this. I have now been part of a convening that has brought some of the most powerful people together in one space, and somehow I have been included. I am humbled, honored, and blown away. 

Today, I shared a story about an object that has pushed me, and reminds me, why we work to improve the lives of children in our communities. I was raised fortunate, and blessed, I was raised with few wants and needs; I grew up with a mother and father that loved me, and although I was confused at times by the way I was raised, by the man who raised us. It is for my father and mother that I realize my place in this world is to serve folks in communities, that are looking for something. For those that are missing something, for those that feel like there is a piece that they can’t find, but they are still willing to search, I exist. I don’t have the answers, I don’t have the direction, but like my mother and father, I have a heart, I have hands, and an ear, a shoulder and time. I have all I need to show folks in our community that I care – I will never stop caring – and with the presence of such powerful people around me, energizing and encouraging my belief in what we are creating for Albuquerque, I am ready to do work. 

I never quit working friends; it isn’t a big deal – it is life and a responsibility – one I whole heartedly and readily accept, and now with the blessings of Kellogg – with the creation of such an amazingly powerful group of people that I know I can call on, all I can say, is we are going to make Albuquerque better, everyone ~ and it’s not just the two dozen of us – it is everyone. We are here, to hear and feel what you want and need in all communities that run through our veins, that exist in our hearts – we are here – we will serve – I am ready. If you need me, please call and let’s get to work. 


Carlos C 

Under The Big Top – NEW POEM

I was working on this and now it is done. The title has changed – enjoy. I am going to upload the sound cloud soon if you’d like to hear the “scratch/memorization” track . 


There’s a locomotive in my chest
barreling down the tracks,
these hands,
tap at keys quicker than a few
things in the west
and the typewriter trapped between
my ears, sings these things, here.

I don’t mind.
I’ve… grown quite used to growing through
a microphone,
things don’t always come out right on the
other end.

That doesn’t always make things difficult.


In this circus
who’s for the clowns?
some people
paid for the show, and the rest of us
will clean up when everyone leaves.

You see ~
This steel stuck, tons worth, of a track riding beast,
gone one way crazy, train, in my chest
doesn’t necessarily have a destination.
one, direction -

And often the interim finds me tapping
at the keys ~
finds me,
finding… New reasons
to breathe and bear the weight of whatever
the world wants me to juggle, because
we all came here for a show. Some of us paid, many will
clean up when it’s over; sometimes, we find ourselves
as part of the act.

A dramatization not to be played up,
bearing down on the two-sided nature
of each and every encounter -
are we the lion or the tamer,
the bear or the bike -
sturdy or topsy-turvy,
under this big top we call Life…

Let me find you in the ring,
fire and hoops,
megaphone and suit and we are all
ready for what you have to say.
We are all here for a show ~
All paid a little bit to be here, yes, some
more than others, nothing spent on anything
less than this experience. When this is all over
we take with us what we brought and clean up
after the calamity that found us
Welcome, may we please have your


The Other Guy – Kyle Gillis

A while back I visited Mayfield High in Las Cruces, NM. A young man approached me shortly after the workshop and told me that what I’d done by reading my “Super Hero” poem during a previous year’s visit, inspired him to write the poem below. I promised that with pride it would go up on my site. It has been far too long – my apologies, Kyle – thank you for sharing your words! 


Dear Dad,
I don’t know how to start this, so I’ll just go.
Growin’ up, you know,
You were my hero.
You were big
You were tough
You were smart
You were gruff;
You taught me how to pick my fights
And wage my battles right.
You said because I’m little,
You said because I cough and I wheeze,
‘Cause bones are brittle
A straight up stand-off with my weak knees,
I’d lose.

And I believed in you.
‘Cause everything you said was true.
So I listened.
So I ran.

When they pushed me down,
When in my eyes they kicked sand,
When I wore shame like a crown
On this castle of pain
I stopped.
I put down my hands and I used my brain.
So I ran.

You were so proud of me, Dad.
You clapped me on the back and called me a man.
And that felt good, Dad.
Then you told me
That you had a plan.
So I listened:
About the other guy;
He’d be bigger
He’d be stronger
He’d be taller
He’d fight faster.
And if I fought him, it would end in disaster.

But you told me–
I remember, Dad–
You said that I could beat him.
The other guy.
Because you believed in me
Because you saw in me
What no teacher ever did see–
You said you saw that I’m smart.
I’m skinny
I’m white
I’m weak
I can’t fight
But I’m clever.

You taught me to bear my bruises
Keep my head down ’till I’m out
And run when I’m routed
To out think them;
Spin them a word
So fast all they heard
Was my clever above their dumb
And I’d play them like a drum.

The other guy?
Yeah, I got his girl.
Yeah, I got his friends too.
I took them for a spin.
The other guy?
He’s nothin’ new,
Because I’ve got this,
Because what you said was true.

But now that I’m out
Now that shit home of yours–
I flew that coup.
My head is up, and without a doubt
I’ve got this.

Now I fight my own wars.
And Dad, you failed me
Because I’ve made it,
But you refuse to see
And you won’t admit
That I did it.
Dad, now you’re the other guy
And I don’t know what to do,
Because Dad, I miss you.

Scrapbook Childhood

My mom used to scrapbook
at 18 she gave me her collection.
her present, a tribute to my
time on her watch,
my father, a Marine -
Military, time was.

Spent, well-off.
Enough to never want
for that we could not

Clippings -
Albuquerque Journal:
Contreras in the box score
9 points.

I think of her tired eyes
and hands, Wednesday
afternoon, lunch break, sports page
purse, and then somewhere in a box
back home.

I think I still have that
somewhere in a box back home.

More than once re-located
as I have been.
Awards I won
12, 15, more than 20 years ago
at this point, still with perfect corners.
calligraphy pens
bearing perfect attendance proclamations
and otherwise.

Not too many Christmas holidays ago
my Mother gave me a box,
all the pictures that didn’t make the cut.
10lbs or so of the realization that
she clipped and collaged memories
of her children, daily.

My mother always wanted to be
a History teacher.

I can see why -
her appreciation for the moment,
an experience, caught,

Her recognition
of the fact that Spelling Bee
certificates would
become one day weightless
in a world
where memories, although
can be packaged and
put away…
acknowledged in the
relinquishing of the clippings
that didn’t make the cut.

Maybe she never had a classroom
but I’m beginning to realize
that my process has been a learning one
all along.

Poetry, Journalism, Activism, Humanism


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