But, Snake, you must not come where we abide,
For you would tempt us; we should hear you say:
‘Oh, somewhere was a world was cold and spare,
And voiceless; somewhere was a Being was not
Engrossed with substance, with no fervencies
Of love and hatred, and he made me, Snake!
The wise Elohim, they who made the rest
Of Creatures, made them ail-too manifold
Mortised and rampired, jointed, vascular;
And I was put an alien in their world,
All head, all spine, all limb, all loin,
Swift as a bird and single as a fish.’
Above you fruits unglanced at bend and glow,
And, bare and voiceless, you do tempt us, Snake!
These scents were created over an unseasonably warm weekend in winter when I was overwhelmed by an urge to mess with spring variants of Snake Oil. 150 bottles were created of each scent, and when they’re gone, they’re gone.