Virginia Konchan, "Zoo"

Virginia Konchan's "Zoo" insists on the radiance of the place: "Do not tell me this is not / beautiful, the clay heart of Nature in the throes / of inconsequence." I'm sitting with "the clay heart of Nature," thinking how malleable the most pristine encounters I've had with the natural world have been. For example, consider the majesty of Niagara Falls. It's just a lot of water–how could that possibly be compelling? But it creates its own thunder, its own mist. It seems to answer to a different order than ours. Four of the Great Lakes empty into the Niagara River before gravity does its work and they transform into three spectacular waterfalls. It feels crafted by an otherworldly hand, a seal of sorts upon Creation. You might want to believe this could be an entirely pristine encounter, completely divorced from human observation or interference. However, I did actually see the falls, along with many, many other tourists. The falls let themselves be captured by our ideas of national parks and a peaceable border. There is no real reason, given our paranoid lust for power, that we didn't destroy the falls. And we should note that engineering has been done–you might liken it to cosmetic surgery–which makes Niagara Falls look the way it does.

Maybe I can reconcile myself to the power of "the clay heart of Nature" when it comes to waterfalls. But a zoo is a place of wonder and horror. Yes, animals are cared for and studied. Zookeepers do not mean to be prison wardens; what they learn benefits any number of species, not just us. The love those who work in a zoo and many of those visiting have for the diversity of this Earth is real.

So real that we readily recognize the massive injustice of the enterprise. The animals are not free, not in the least. There's a reason Nael's poem about "The Tiger" keeps finding new readers every single day:

What I want to know is whether this can be transcended. I think Konchan's "Zoo" illustrates the sentiment that it can. That eventually all of us can be free, that our predation need not be permanent or entail the imprisonment of every other creature. Of course, that is itself questionable, especially if one believes we have to progress technologically to move beyond our way of doing things. Hard moral choices, I have learned from experience, can never be assigned to a mere technology.

Zoo (from The Rumpus)
Virginia Konchan

Unbridled, the sick pony
traverses listlessly a circle.
Something something about
the indifference of crows.
Nature draws a crowd:
amateur photographers
drawn to the ellipsis
of weather, the dew point
of sumac and wisteria vines.
Cross the sturdy footbridge;
greet the slack-jawed child.
Do not tell me this is not
beautiful, the clay heart
of Nature in the throes
of inconsequence, before
its animation by mind.

Konchan starts "Zoo" with a tough scene: "Unbridled, the sick pony / traverses listlessly a circle." Pity and disgust emerge when you imagine a pony walking dazed, a target for numerous other animals. "Something something about / the indifference of crows." I can't help but think of a zoo as a place keeping animals dependent and trapped, alienated from the means of their own survival.

All the same, humans are not entirely hostile to the natural world. Robert Frost's "The Pasture" always struck me as a poem alluding to the positive power of dominion. We can care for where we live, too. Here, the sick pony has a chance. Predators are absent. The staff of the zoo attend that pony, giving it the love they would give their own children.

In her next scene, "Nature draws a crowd," as "amateur photographers" find themselves entranced by "the ellipsis of weather." Zoos need to replicate conditions not present in the climate of a given area. Those conditions are purposeful: "the dew point / of sumac and wisteria vines" are for life. "[T]he slack-jawed child" understands the assignment. Everyone is awed by what's around–samples of Nature from all over–and the "slack-jawed child" takes it a step further. The zoo has inspired wonder. The zoo is problematic, but it should not merely replicate the conditions which produced it.

Hence, Konchan's conclusion: "Do not tell me this is not / beautiful, the clay heart / of Nature in the throes / of inconsequence, before / its animation by mind." Strangely enough, she places herself in a dialogue familiar to students of classical political philosophy. What is Nature? Is there an order to the universe which must be rationally discovered? Which tells us how to live? Even the hint of such an order can topple our attempts to establish legitimacy. It becomes all too easy to identify most rules as the product of mere whims.

Confronting Nature is such a threat that it can be said modern political thought does not attempt to do so. We would rather declare mastery over the known and unknown. This produces our ridiculous thinking that technology can solve any problem. It also casts zoos in an extremely negative light, as they can serve as only an extension of a thoughtless, power-hungry species. Konchan, by contrast, would like us to focus on what is actually happening to the crowd. "[T]he clay heart / of Nature in the throes / of inconsequence" is a meeting of all the species, humans included, on terms dangerous to no one. From this, "its animation by mind." Someone else's heart will change; they will apply their mind; they will be the "clay heart of Nature" themselves. The future will be better.

I'm nearly convinced, but I'm older. I need to see some things spelled out exactly as they should work. For example, people point to parodies of fascists as helping create opposition to fascism. And after a nanosecond's worth of searching, you find the parody is being taken as unironic gospel by stupid and determined wannabe authoritarians. I'm not saying we shouldn't have zoos or that we should oppose the wonderment of a child. But I think we need to be more explicit about learning and liberation. These demand our devotion no matter what. The fact we have tried to make them more attractive to the brutal and ignorant has weakened our society in key respects.