“the watchers,” by Jason Barber

Apr 20th, 2009 | By | Category: Poetry

surveillance is heavy.

you can never make it.

where do they come from,

plucking shoots of hopes,

prying into the scales?

nobody knows.

they are the space-crawlers.

they are the attic-thumpers.

they live in furniture.

they eat dust and pain.

they resemble dead spiders.

they could be invulnerable.

contortionists changing

the shape of ours-to-come,

they note all that we do.

unlike gremlins,

they keep score.

telepathy is their modus operandi,

whispering sentences to each other

through walls and over continents.

they dole punishment out

and savor our suffering


they will kill me for this.

they will kill all of us in the end.

we win if we know.

they hate that.


Jason Barber lives, works, and writes in Denver, Colorado.   He earned his undergraduate degree from Hampshire College and his graduate degree from Catholic University. Jason enjoys reading as much as writing and thinks a library would be a wonderful place to live.

Tags: , , ,

Comments are closed.