Treasure Island

Nick Kasparie

(3-30-94 / Quincy, IL.)

Thoughts of Nothing Much


His head’s a wisp of smoke
And it floats above the earth
It doesn’t see the purpose
Of ground or trees or dirt

His body is a breeze
And it blows, it never yields
It whispers in the ears
Of farmers in their fields

He floats above the ground
‘Cause his feet can never touch
His head is in the clouds
With thoughts of nothing much

Submitted: Wednesday, June 19, 2013
Edited: Wednesday, June 19, 2013
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