You could wander into this poetic documentary willing to be sympathetic toward its subject men who have sex with horses and still find Zoo cryptic and borderline bogus. It targets the night that one man, at a gathering of zoophiles in the Pacific Northwest, died from a perforated colon after an equine encounter. The movie ''meditates'' on these shadow deviants yet never enters their minds, let alone their libidos. Behind the lyrical dark images, one senses an agenda: transforming zoophiles into the ultimate misunderstood minority group. After Zoo, you still won't understand them.