Doubt part million

if I place words in a
carefully considered order
let sounds resonate
BREAK a sentence
here and there
do I then write a poem

here      words wobble
far from      what
–      or who –
I      hold
         dear

from an imagined stage
I string a-chain-of-letters
around my neck
describe the man I am not
the happiness I do not know
kick the chair
under my feet

from my fingers roll
flakes of longing
for world peace,
  so much money
  that money no longer matters
for
  FINALLY
  ONCE
  WITH
  EVERYTHING
  IN
  ORDER
and
no more rejection

I might as well
strike a river
from a stone

or from an overturned belly
cut the animal open

awake too long
under a clear sky
with a head
  full of the question
  that refuses to become a sentence:
  will we be alright