Here’s a poem I wrote about twelve years ago:
after Ecclesiastes 8:15
Therefore I commend mirth;
so I praise laughter;
after all, I turn to grinning.
In the end, I prefer to chortle, to chuckle,
guffaw, snort, split my sides,
tears of mirth, earthy mirth,
rips of laughter, tides of noise, human breath gasping.
I can’t cry, but I can still laugh
the foot on the banana, the pie in the face, the butt on the floor,
hit, broom! slice, twig!
I commend mirth!
I award a crown of candy,
Laughing wins, winds, winding around my guts,
splashing out my open throat,
tasting so much better than bile.