The speaker begins by asking what a moment of sudden insight is supposed to feel like, and the answer is disappointing: it flares up and crumbles to dust. Books and poems have filled their head with grand ideas, but real life still tastes of dirt. They feel worn down, passed from hand to hand, and they describe themselves as a beaten, fighting-mad dog who doesn't deserve pity.
The mood is weary, bitter and restless. There's a sense of being watched, with an audience that is bored and a distant loudspeaker whose voices the speaker admits are calling to them, even as they tune them out. The final lines turn the poem sharply. Instead of waiting for a neat moment of understanding, the speaker rejects "revelation" altogether and chooses action. The last line is short and defiant, and it suggests that anger and exhaustion are about to become a plan for change.