I've never been to Japan, but the titular focus of this old blog, Richard Brautigan, spent a year there (1975/76), which culminated in his poetry collection "June 30th, June 30th." Here is a short poem from the book, in which Brautigan remembers the feeling of never fitting in, never being entirely comfortable -- except perhaps at the game arcade!
Pachinko Samurai
The only person in my immediate family to have been in Japan (so far as I know) is my father. He flew several missions from Okinawa to the main islands of Japan in the late stages of WWII, including some transfers of Japanese POWs just after Japan surrendered. In our back hall closet hangs a silk embroidered smoking jacket he got in Japan. One of my sisters has the Samurai sword he brought back.
Fukagawa was also where the esteemed Haiku master Basho lived for a time. Here's a Basho poem, translated, curiously enough, by Robert Hass.Taking a nap,
Did you wear the smoking jacket while writing, for inspiration? I don't know where the sword is but it's probably worth a fortune. I have lived to regret my penchant for neatness.
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