-from the first step-

the great Chilean poet lingered
inside the tool-shops where hardware

exposed itself openly for consideration; the skilled

walls displaying the naked strength of metal.

In the here and now, implements of the trade

are packaged for sale in snazzy blister-packs

dressed-up for immediate recognition.

the bakeries exist

on the slower side of commerce,

where the scent of confections,

of flower and water roam free of fierceness.

even the ovens take-on the scent

of the sweet, the pliable of form.

the pane crusts, warm and earth-colored,

linger like the poet lingered at the altar of iron,
at the mouth of their singular languages,–

the abrupt attack in the metal of tools,
the organic activity of sugars, the stringent salts,

the moistness of the cooling pane,

the common sense in the fierceness of crowbars,

from the anvil through the distance to the oven's peel,

from the Chilean's atmosphere of nickel and copper,

to the crusts of the pane belly-up on the shelves, waiting
across the street from the third base line ready for the tables,––
all of it and more and now even this.