(People sometimes joke about my virtual life, but here's a glimpse into my RL.)

Here it is summer, the second of June.
I'm outside in the sun, whistling a tune
From Sweeney Todd, as I swing chain saw wide,
Cutting to pieces this tree that had died,

To sever the limbs from this Christmas tree,
To turn decoration into debris,
Stripped of its balls and every single bow--
This should have been done some months ago.

The decorations were off in early March;
The flexible needles had begun then to parch--
They've toughened a bit since they dried out.
Touch a needle? then watch your blood spout.

When I had spring break it went by the gate.
It sat there a fortnight, as I calculate.
Then dragged it outside, aside the garage,
To become part of the landscape, a mere mirage.

But spring came soon and I needed to clean
Dead leaves and this tree, which had long lost its green,
And though it continued its needles to shed,
It stood ever taunting; I needed to shred!

So spring rains stopped and outside I went,
Having already passed the lilacs' scent.
My extension was plugged, and oil greased the chain.
I put on the goggles, my task was quite plain.

Decimating the branches, I tossed them in cans.
I filled multiple bags with my gloved hands,
Tossing the last of the trunk down inside.
After months of yearning—I am gratified.

So sometimes I think of the world's ills and strife,
How crazy and busy is this, my life,
Sometimes I manage to do my list done--
Now I can go and have some fun.

Her IM said, "Hey sexy man!"
She's 15 from Idaho
She asked me if she was too young
I had to say, "I dunno"

We talked awhile of simple things
When she turned the chat to hot
Was she a virgin, did I think?
And announced that she was not

She told me of her firm tight ass
It matched her 35bs
I said politely, "You know I thought
Bra sizes only came in evens—"
Her computer seemed to freeze

She sent me then some pics to prove
She was hot and cast her spell
But she forgot to first delete
The porno site's URL
["She's an amateur??]

CHORUS
Internet women
I love 'em and I leave 'em
Whether they are big or small
Internet women
I cannot commit since they
Might not be women a'tall

One woman in an older chat
Fell in love with me so fast
I was all she was looking for
She knew that our bond would last

She said I was her one true love
She tried to get me hard
I lied and said I loved her back
She asked for my credit card
["Don't go online without it!"]

CHORUS
Internet women
I love 'em and I leave 'em
Whether they are short or tall
Internet women
I cannot commit since they
Might not be women a'tall

This Russian woman 'emailed me
She had seen me on Yahoo
She liked my profile and my pic
She could tell that I could woo

Because I have no pic on there
I wondered why she chose me
(RUSSIAN ACCENT) "Because of our strong connection"
Then she asked for her visa fee
["Dahsvedanya!"]

CHORUS
Internet women
I love 'em and I leave 'em
Whether they are big or small
Internet women
I cannot commit since they
Might not be women a'tall

Another girl said "20 F"
And did I like college girls?
I had to say I like them wild
(But only if they're really girls)

For her age she seemed mature
So I tried to get a fix
Then I assume from what she said:
---------------Male, 56!

(NO CHORUS)

One 'email gal confessed her love
At last she knew what it meant
It was clear, I was her dear
Undisclosed recipient

If females there come on to me
But they don't know who I am
I deflate my masculine ego
And assume it's just a scam
["It's not a free for all!"]

CHORUS
Internet women
I love 'em and I leave 'em
Whether they are shaken or stirred
Internet women
I'm not sure I'm seeing straight
They're making my vision blurred

(FADES)
I'm on a bender with a gender pretender
I'm on a bender with a gender pretender
I'll never surrender to a gender pretender
(My ass is still tender from that last gender pretender)

You said that you'd love me forever
We'd marry and then have some kids
But I knew weeks after we talked that
This relationship was on the skids

I tried to break up once but you then
Blackmailed with threatened suicide
You said you could not live without me
Later we found out that you had lied

That summer when you met that new guy
You tried to make me jealous when
You told me how you were so tempted
To go to where I'd already been

My new girl was all that you were not
Even though we were so shortly through
But she gave me reason to hope that
I could find someone other —
I could find someone better than you.

CHORUS
Sometimes you just know when it's right
Sometimes you don't know when it's wrong
You mistake the start of a fight
For the sound of the true love's gong
Sometimes you get fooled that it's right
You think that you truly belong
Sometimes it takes you years to find out
What you thought then was right then was wrong

I hear you're married and have some kids
The rumor says you're happy in a sense
And I remain childless and alone
My relief is in no way a pretense

If we'd married, I'd be in prison
Don't mean in a metaphorical way
I mean I'd be in jail for murder
I'd have killed you shortly after
Shortly after our wedding day

CHORUS

If we'd married, I'd be in prison
Don't mean in a metaphorical way
I mean I'd be in jail for murder
I'd have killed you shortly after
Not so very, very long after
Shortly after our wedding day

CHORUS

Long silken flowing hair, raven dark;
Satin skin, unadorned, blemish free.
She's my private exotic dancer--
Every rhythmic movement just for me.

Her swaying and undulating hips
Offer a promise, echoed by lips.
Her movements, like ocean's calming waves,
Like a baptism--my soul she saves.

She takes no payment for her dances;
Her sole reward --my smiling glances.

Her dance reminds me of mountain highs,
Seas of such blue, colored twilight skies,
Where sunsets blaze in volcanic guise,
Slowly replaced by stars' twinkling eyes.

I surge my car forward, she responds;
A flash of thigh beneath leafy fronds.
Her eyes invite me to share her smile
That will never fade, mile after mile.

This hula girl brought from island fair
Adorns my dashboard, reminds me of...
Another time...
And another "there"...

Coming up in late May and early June, a theatre production of Euripides' THE BACCHAE. I will be performed by residents of SL in the Greek Theatre on Cookie Island.

For more info, go to the general info site: http://musofyr.com/bacchae.html. It has the SLURL to the Greek, info on the process and a link to my rehearsal blog.

The Metronome of Time
Keeps Time
As it ticks Time away
Never ending its ticking

The Cradle and the Hobbyhorse
Rocking and rocking
Rocking not endless
Rock to adulthood
Their rocking stops

Then the rocking chair
Rocking the days away
Rocking the nights
In a different way from youth

But still we hear
The metronome of Time
Ticking and ticking
Until it stops--for each of us.

I'm dancing with my stalker
Does she know I know?
I'm dancing with my stalker
I know she'll never go

She checks your myspace
And did you update?
Write notes about her?
It better be great

Did you leave comments
On her photo shoots?
Tell her she's pretty,
And sexy in suits?

She wearing enough?
Or maybe too much?
Does she turn you on?
Make you want to touch?

You'll get her IMs
Every single night,
Her text messages
Hold you oh so tight

I'm sitting with my stalker
She's playing with my thigh
I'm sitting with my stalker
She makes me kinda…high

When she thinks of you
Which is constantly
Checks her telephone
She exacts her fee

She'll want to know where,
And when you return
Wants constant contact
That you need to learn

I'm flirting with my stalker
I shouldn't, yes I know
She such a smooth taker
She's stroking my ego

When you're not with her
Still smell her perfume?
She loves you so much
So why feel such gloom?

Hopeless devotion
You helplessly caught
In her web of love
You struggle for naught.

She'll always be there
To listen to you
How your day has gone
And why you feel blue

She cares about you
She won't go away
She is your stalker
The rest of your days

The title, The Absence of Shadows, has a literal, a metaphoric, and an ironic meaning.

It is literal because our avatars in Second Life cast no (I won't say substantial) shadows on wall or ground, even when we stand in bright sunlight or moonlight. Yes, there is 3-D shading, and sometimes a hint of a shadow under our feet, but they are not significant.

It is metaphoric because our avatars, these insubstantial pixel-created representations of ourselves, are not solid, not flesh and bone, blood and marrow.

And it is in ironic, on the psychological level, because in Second Life, there are many shadows in the Jungian sense: there may be demons that drive us to SL, or drive us in SL. But there are also the shadowy and dark forces of our RL personalities that fuel our creativity; as Mephistopheles says in self-introduction to Goethe's Faust, he is "Part of a power that would/Alone work evil, but engenders good."

Second Life is more than shoes, sex and shopping. Creativity abounds everywhere—not just in site constructions and objects, but in expressions of the traditional art forms: music, drawing, painting, photography, dance, theatre, writing and, yes, poetry.

This volume of poems, by residents of Second Life, grew out of weekly poetry readings in Mill Pond at the virtual Shakespeare and Company bookstore.... [more to come later]