Office Hours
High on my office wall,
suspended by scotch tape,
is a black-and-white photo
of the Great Buddha.
Torn from an anthology
by some long forgotten
he sits in stone,
framed by leaves,
musing on eternal transience.
With his huge head bowed
over weatherbeaten limbs
and his helmet of hair
and long ear lobes-
I'd say he was looking down,
waiting for me
to break this silence,
but his eyes are closed
and his thoughts
(if he has them)
are his own.
So between classes
I sit here,
legs up on a chair,
doing nothing,
when I should be
marking student papers
or advancing my career . . .
I sit and admire
the folds of his robe
and the moon-like arc
of his eyebrows
and am confounded by
his unspeakable



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