poetry | Bonus Cut

This is Bonus Cut Poetry, a series that features original poems by Bonus Cut staff, artists and YOU! In this series, our mission is to bring people together in poetry, share stories and display wonderful artistic pieces. If you would like to have your poems in the next Bonus Cut Poetry installment, just email us at bonuscut@gmail.com

This installment features Bonus Cut’s own Abby Conklin.

At the Water Cooler
By: Abby Conklin

I do not know what kind
of jokes you make about
the people you work
with. Maybe their anxiety.
Maybe one OCD gum-chewer’s
jaws, or the leaver-of-stained-
coffee-mugs’ trail through the break
room. There’s a lot to be said
for the things that make us human.
Which is likely why
my coworkers and I stood
at the edge of the indoor
track today, at our students’
summer olympics, cracking
jokes about the rattling nature
of the starting gun.
These kids don’t run
this kind of race when they hear
that shit! we laughed. They run
as fast as they can from
wherever it came from! Jokes
that aren’t jokes when you’ve heard
your coworker wish for a house
in Connecticut. Talked about a window
looking out at her sons playing
in a back yard, instead of pounding down
her auto-locked front door, trying
to get away from playground gunshots.

Tagged Art, artistic expression, culture, Hip hop, poem, poet, poetry

Aug 06 2014

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Bonus Cut Poetry: “between class” by Justin Cook

This installment features Bonus Cut’s own Justin Cook.

between class
By: Justin Cook

“The Temiar Self can be focused on and talked about, not as an autonomous entity, but only in ways that also implicate Other (and vice versa).”
—Geoffrey Benjamin

eyelids frozen open, crisp light
permeates lungs, heading to Shamanism,
Trance, and Sacred Journeys.
most students shoe gaze, counting
their steps led by sidewalks,
talking to someone through headphones/talking
to themselves—but from afar they peer
with excitement, who could this be?
maybe, if we recirculated our vision,
we would recognize the village: that stranger
waving/giving the nod, that snowflake
melting crystal into you, half-moon mouth
carrying her silent conversation.

Tagged Art, artistic expression, Hip hop, poem, poet, poetry

Aug 06 2014

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Bonus Cut Poetry: “Whatever It Takes” by Abby Conklin

This installment features Bonus Cut’s own Abby Conklin.

Whatever It Takes
By: Abby Conklin

Shout out to Bel Kaufman; RIP
Sorry.
Sorry for what?
SORRY. I’m SORRY.
Turn down for what?
Yo, but that music video
though.
Shut up, I’m trying to get his attention.
Shut up. Turn down.
YO, sorry for WHAT?
He’s talking to himself again.
Yo, don’t we get paid
to listen to him talk to himself?
Yo, Flash Gordon over here.
Yo, which ONE? He’s got
them all running like that
now. Wait, stop him before
he- SHIT.
Is she okay?
Yo, that’s what you get
when you five years old
and so messed up you won’t
get up off the floor.
Yo but didn’t her brother PUSH
her there?
Did he take his meds today?
I dunno- the older one’s acting normal,
so I know he did. But maybe
mom’s giving them the same
dose again.
Yo.
Yo.
Yo. NO.
Shit’s insane.
No, the kids are.
The kids are not the shit.
No?
I thought we were excited
about them-
Yo, FUCK you!
Is it nine yet?
Are they done yet?
Have you left yet, is it raining
yet, has it stopped raining
yet, yo, where you at?
Yo, where you at, I wanna
get an ice, but the dude’s gonna leave
before my lunch.
Yo, where you goin’
for lunch?
That a chopped cheese?
Yo, you eat some shit.
Yo, YOU eat some shit.
Yo, alla you shut up, I’m on
the phone with my child’s school.
Oh shit.
Is it two yet? You leave
a message? Where you goin’?
You finish your lesson plan?
Yo, CHILL, seriously. Y’all do not
have to be this turned up
by recess.
Yo, where you at, her moms is here.
Yo, I JUST got my shit started
and now you takin’ her?
Yo, not my fault.
My man, there are TWO HOURS LEFT
of program-
Sotto Voce: yo, ‘an why can’t
you take HIM instead?
Yo, I can’t with you.
Yeah, yeah. Yeah. Yeah,
yeah. Yeah, you, go home, YO
THAT DOESN’T MEAN THE REST
OF Y’ALL GET TO-
yo.
What?
I’m here to observe.
Yo, observe what?
Your academic project lesson.
Yo, you put that on my morning
schedule. I am not doing that shit
at 2:33 P-M.
Well-
Yo, well NOTHIN’, you can come
back another-
No, imma just take notes now.
HEY.
YO.
YO, GET OFF HER.
Hey, you better fill out an incident
report for that.
Yo, there aren’t any more.
Says who?!
Yo, I was in there THIRTY
MINUTES AGO after he bit
him. We out.
Yo, yeah, we totally out.
Print more.
Yo, your printer’s broke.
Go to headquarters.
Yo, only half my team came
in today, I’m not about to leave-
Yo, she’s goin’ home.
Copy. Copy that. Yo,
your dad’s here, go. Can anyone
tell me-
Hey, I’m gonna go now.
Yo, you left your notebook.
Miss, miss, when are we gonna-
STOP IT. ALL YOU GET
OFFA HIM. Are you-
Sorry! I’m sorry.
Sorry for what?
SORRY.

I’m sorry.

Tagged Art, artistic expression, culture, Hip hop, poem, poet, poetry

Jul 23 2014

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Bonus Cut Poetry: “On Being Vegetarian” by Abby Conklin

This installment features Bonus Cut’s own Abby Conklin.

On Being Vegetarian
By: Abby Conklin

I took pliers and a nut cracker
to a lobster for the first time
the night of my twenty-second birthday.
Turned out more violent
than I’d thought it would, shattering
the bone-red carapace in order
to stab at freckled meat
with forked needles so sharp
they stuck me too. Shards
of shell flying, guts clumsily
leaking onto paper plates.
Scrambling to keep the claws clear
of the intestinal green gunk.
“What’s the white stuff sheathing
the meat, Mum? Fear turned lactic
acid?” “No, Abby, we’re different
from lobsters. Mammals
are different.” She gripped
the tail, slit its tender belly up
the middle. As if gutting
its legs hadn’t done job enough.
I held its abdomen, its head, while
she worked, torn-in-two spider
from the bottom of the ocean.
Felt dragged at by the heft
of the creature’s life turned
unbearably hot, tightness
moving bile through my chest.
I ate the tail slowly, pulling
white shreds free and trying
them in butter; congealed
yellow costuming in ramekins.
I couldn’t taste the animal
I was eating, but I kept chewing,
swallowing,
appearances. Went home,
slept badly. The next night,
there were haddock filets
for supper.