2 pomes by Hinman: the world has Evolved and Something of the Conspiratorial

The World Has Evolved

The world has evolved
Like a rubber ball.
An ideal smoothness has
Bumped up into form.
And if a child’s had could catch it,
And the mountains and cities
And wood lands
Would go bouncing over the housetop,
And bouncing over the trees.
Latter he will lie on his back
In the grass,
and the world will look
At the stars.

Something of The Conspiratorial

Each evening gallery of ignorant faces
Brings images of bankers and boardrooms
And the world’s planners,
Now and then even a faint suspicion
Of space aliens.
My brother says these are the tactics
of a child race,
a race growing in spasms.
But I know the aliens are watching.
Watching form a distant land
Where strange creatures copulate
In sacred groves, and spiders measure
The circumfrance of the sun.

They breath joy when we fail,
Driven to excel throughout the galaxy.
They taste exotic ices as they listen
To the cries of the oppressed;
And when their children ask they say:
‘Those are fragile democracyes.’

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