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T R A P P E D I N S I D E A H A I K U P O E M I’m not sure how it happens, but it’s a rather pleasant experience. I read the first line and before I know it I can’t find my way out. I look around. Off to the east a man is rowing a skiff along a shore. A frog is echoing in the west. I make my way along a path and enter a cabin with a single bed and three staircases. I walk around until I forget whether I’m upstairs or downstairs. Sometimes I find myself standing in a room with the great Basho, but we know enough not to spoil the silence with words. When I pass a mirror I see I too am an old man with a pointed beard and a silken robe. Come to think of it, even as I write this I may be standing in one of those rooms. And that’s you walking down the path toward the cabin whose door I’ve left ajar. 23 ...

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