Praise Song for Today

Praise Song for Today

I am writing in praise of sloth, in praise
of doing nothing and by nothing I don’t
mean watching television or sleeping,
I mean doing nothing: no moving about
the house with your arms hanging loosely
by your side, no thinking about what you’re
going to order for dinner, no thinking those
half-assed thoughts that you mistake for
indolent wisdom or peeking as the neigh-
bors drink or argue wondering if the police
will show up before they start shooting at
each other. I mean nothing, until you can’t
move even if you wanted to move, to New
York, to Cairo, to Hong Kong, nothing, so
that there isn’t even a language to describe
what it is you’re not doing, you, a Heraclitus
of nothingness, devoid of even the cheapest
sensations and in possession of nothing, un-
affected by the ironies of chance or coinci-
dence, just lying back in your garden among
the overgrown grass or the tiny pebbles still
damp from the rain, lying there, thinking of
nothing and knowing that this is only the
beginning.

–Jose Padua


Poetry Writing

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