By Jeremy Freedman

I am not a alone. Instead of people,
I saw a listing school of fish
fisting from side to side,
and their desires;
they were on drugs.
I ate tree bark and beetles and bugs
and the sea knew me.
I was almost convinced
I was almost a merman, but I knew
it wasn’t true because I couldn’t tell
my left-hand flipper what to do.
I paid strangers to watch me
eat myself; I’m the last doughnut
in a box of doughnuts.

Jeremy Freedman is a writer and artist in New York City. His poems have been published in Queen Mob’s, Cleaver, Cartagena, Eclectica, Otoliths and elsewhere. His photographs have been exhibited in Europe and the United States and have been recently featured in Hothouse, Redivider, the Monarch Review, the Citron Review and the Doctor T.J. Eckleburg Review. More work can be seen at

© 2016