Green Hills Literary Lantern




White glue all over the floor,

on my feet,

on my fingers,


on the little tuxedo cat,

her gloves,

her shoes white

as the glue,


the kind of white glue

that holds the

little white

stars on a string,


coming up out

of the floor

as if it will

be a white blob that will

grow and grow until

it eats us,


enough glue to patch

up the sad,

the badly hurt

in the hospital,


in my head,

in my blood,


all over my tennis shoes,


the kind kids use to

stick red smiles

on white paper plate faces,


enough to stick

the sun

back up if we need to one day.










Bus Driver








                  the light inside the bus is a little bluish and

                  in the building the driver sits on a bench in a blue uniform,


                  ghosts gather

                  around a tired man in the night,


                  as if he is a porch light

                  and they are bugs,


                  as if he is the last









up to return to his bus




Benjamin Nash has had poems published in VOLT, RHINO, Pembroke Magazine, Blueline, and other publications.