Helplessly Frantically Hopefully or trip to the zoo
By david woodward
Voidness cannot injure voidness.
―Tibetan Book of the Dead
i.
decide to some
the conscience
that knows its
un-conscious is
so much more
conscious―
unity is perfection or the genetic maker
when humour
& seriousness
are so inter-twined
on a fine
autumn day
the colours you encounter
with-in
you want to share
so desperately
you laugh
as you coil around
around Self
the genetic maker
inside the colours
of each leaf
lives eternally
in the One
who enjoys
participates in
the joy
of being―
our true structure
i met you
in the void
one fine day
this is not
the void,
the void said
& the spirit danced
to & fro
throughout our secret
essential minds,
we are in a long parade
we go on for
infinite, the great legend spoke,
the fire is
our brother
our sister is
speaking to the earth
this morning
the wind is
the fuel
that keeps us safe
& going,
the water repeated
as it rained down
lovingly on our
parade,
there is (a) space
between us,
the air echoed
in the naked
valley beneath
the sighs of each
hungry footprint
we made
to ward off
the evil
that followed
high above
the smoke
the spirits danced
that could not
descend
into the flames
we enticed
the un-known
come closer
we begged
what we could not
comprehend what we
could not
forget
but could not
touch
lying above
our wild & bewildered Selves
we gazed down
& witnessed
the miracle
of our death
as the un-born
rose out of
the ashes
& clung hungrily
in the open
air floating
drifting instinctually to its
fate
the spirit dancing
upward
spiraling
out of control
beyond our touch
into the rain
that fell
each droplet filled
with the molecular
structure
of un-deniable
truth
the miracle
of love.
ii.
mixed emotions outside a zoo
i left you at
the bus stop
this morning, you told me
you were going
to the zoo, you said
there would be
tigers there, a whole family
of tigers
there, i was envious
of course,
you kept repeating
the tigers, this miracle
of tigers, over & over
you said that you must
not put your hand
into the cage,
for tigers might mistake
a hand
for food, & i was very
serious when i heard
this, but inside
i was laughing
but further inside
this laughter
i was crying.
when you danced with your tiger spirit
i dreamt
the zoo
was on
fire
there was
panic
in the sun
as all
the eyes
looked helplessly on
the great spirit
dancing
all around
the chosen ones
breathed-in
the ashes
of the un-born
as i looked
frantically
for you
the animals
turned to fire
then smoke
then molecules
that danced
hopefully
in the open
air
freed from
(their) structures
of bars
of bodies
of bones
that contain
the spirit
(we intuit
always)
with-in.
david woodward aka un-known lives just south of Montreal with his wife and son. Some of his most recent work can be found in the engine(idling, North Dakota Quarterly, Sunday Mornings at the River, The Field Guide Poetry Magazine, Wilderness House Review, and upcoming in The Universes Poetry Journal in the U.K., Lunar Sea Literature from Scotland and Petrichor. He was nominated for Best of the Net 2026.
