SAN JOSÉ

Fuck easy-beautiful. Here the clouds don't announce their valley—
they worry down to lick the tips of barbed wire, brush tires and teeth
like a graffiti stroke, beautiful, smoke disavowing the hills.
To need you—una a otra, tranquila. Fuck easy-beautiful. The city
sprawls and you cruise the south edge of San Pedro on a blue two-speed
bicycle, wicked mess, the space between us like an eager breath,
pedestrians caught in the intersection below the changing
traffic light. Maybe it's early. Maybe you're starving. Maybe the sky
is quiet and stacked with color. No one is waiting for us
and the shade by the bus stop makes for perfect cover.
Maybe we're restless with nowhere good to go.
Pero al menos hoy sigo respirando
y al menos juntos seguimos respirando.

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CHIVO: CANTINA SCCA

Don't sweat
death or dust, the crash cymbal
          fast feeling a path through
          our bodies—
          don't worry
          about obscurity or the way
                    that space defends
                    its boundedness.
                    If what we call music
                    means the phantom
                    will that binds
                    us, we mean the
                    bounding, the bind-
                    ing. We watch
                              stage lights paint
                              the ceiling
                              riot-smoke blue
                                            and someone yells
                                            chivo chivo
                                            from the back of the room
                                                          descending the staircase
                                                          impeccable
                                                          our only

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My wife, Katie Brown, an ethnomusicologist, has been conducting research in Costa Rica over the last few years. Her work follows a particular punk subscene, and documents how its artists employ music in service of queer, transnational feminist, and environmentalist activisms. When I'm lucky enough for circumstances to align, I get to accompany her and spend time there with our friends, including folks from bands like Ladrona, Barrakas, Punto Konfliktivo, and Topo Sikosis (check them out), whose work is at the heart of Katie's ethnography. 

These poems are in and of that space. "San José" quotes from Guanacaste-based folk punk artist Topo Sikosis' song "Canción Para Después De Un Ataque De Ansiedad." Thank you, Fer! You can find the song on her bandcamp: [toposikosis.bandcamp.com/album/adelante-ni-ez], if you want to give it a spin. "Chivo" is a word folks in the scene use to refer to a concert. If you go catch a show, no doubt you'll hear someone yell "chivo chivo" as loud as they can while waiting for the band to go on. Thanks for reading and for supporting local music!