is it the poet’s purpose
to deliver doses of truth
that awake sleepers and set
fires in their bellies
or
should the poet
sculpt beauty from the empty
space of a blank page
leaving no trace?
truth and beauty
revolution or aesthetics
prophecy or pilgrimage?
the sieve and the sand 
This is really good – the culmination in the last stanza is especially provoking.
the poets job – and i stand by these words – is to describe in most beautiful detail their feces from that day. if even shit can be romanticized then the poet has arrived.