before feel became

the imprisonment of recognition,

the dalliance of recall,

the backlog efforts of memory as retention,

familiarity as the sensory greeter,

the drive-by's of recognition's past,

understanding as internal lip-service offered,

speech as a form of self proclaiming,

conversation as braided shackles woven together,

the avalanche of unending comprehension,

the mind with a pick, an axe, a shovel and a hoe,

a rake, a crowbar, a knife and a pitchfork, 

a hammer, a drill, a saw, and a sander,

a phone, a t.v., a bank account and a car,

a projection, a career, a motive and a self,

a closet full of experience,

expectation as a forward sense of gravity as gaze,

can't stop for an imaginary moment,

time will run ahead.

could exist as a rewind of twine,

an invisible octopus in an imaginary sea,

a collection of out-breaths 

that gathered as a collective of themselves,

robust without the potential of appearance,

a statuesque phantom of solid yearn,

the space between space 

that seeks no acknowledgment. 

what am I getting at 

that never had words?

that only had thoughts as far distant neighbors,

that had feel 

before the intermingling with intelligentsia.

feel, before words,

before linear is mentally lionized, 

feel, as holographic, as embodiment,

as generative.

feel, beyond the stall-point of recognition,

maybe before conception

had its down to earth features.

feel, where no words come forth as greeters.

feel, like now without observance.

all within the integrity of being,

not as the noun,

but specifically as the existential 

yet hypothetical verb . . .