This is called "August."
"Two horses in yellow light, eating windfall apples
under a tree as summer tears apart, milkweeds stagger,
and grasses grow more ragged.
They say there are ions in the sun,
neutralizing magnetic fields on earth.
Some way to explain what this week
has been, and the one before it.
If I am flesh sunning on rock, if I
am brain burning in fluorescent light,
if I am dream like a wire with fire throbbing along it,
if I am death to man, I have to know it.
His mind is too simple.
I cannot go on sharing his nightmares.
My own are becoming clearer.
They opened into prehistory, which looks like a village lit
with blood, where all the fathers are crying,
'My son is mine.'"