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  ‘Tis Strange Perfume Oil

  “Macbeth ruled during a time when the old gods were not yet forgotten. Almost no one could read and their memories and stories reached back into the deepest shadows.

  When the imagination stretches backwards as well as forwards it creates a sort of slide, or ladder. Like the children’s game! Time is much thicker. There is a substance about it that allows beings to gain purchase.”

  Both bog and castle, moor and battlefield, chivalry and nightmare: scarred leather armor, moss-covered stone, shadows upon shadows, and billows of black incense.

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• 

  Robin Goodfellow Perfume Oil

  Now the hungry lion roars,
  And the wolf behowls the moon;
  Whilst the heavy ploughman snores,
  All with weary task fordone.
  Now the wasted brands do glow,
  Whilst the screech-owl, screeching loud,
  Puts the wretch that lies in woe
  In remembrance of a shroud.
  Now it is the time of night
  That the graves all gaping wide,
  Every one lets forth his sprite,
  In the church-way paths to glide:
  And we fairies, that do run
  By the triple Hecate’s team,
  From the presence of the sun,
  Following darkness like a dream,
  Now are frolic: not a mouse
  Shall disturb this hallow’d house:
  I am sent with broom before,
  To sweep the dust behind the door.

  Dark musk, moss-covered wood, ragwort, heather, and sage.

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  The Kangaroo Perfume Oil

  Kanagaroo, Kangaroo!
  Thou Spirit of Australia,
  That redeems from utter failure,
  From perfect desolation,
  And warrants the creation
  Of this fifth part of the Earth,
  Which would seem an after-birth,
  Not conceiv’d in the Beginning
  (For GOD bless’d His work at first,
  And saw that it was good),
  But emerg’d at the first sinning,
  When the ground was therefore curst; —
  And hence this barren wood!

  Kangaroo, Kangaroo!
  Tho’ at first sight we should say,
  In thy nature that there may
  Contradiction be involv’d,
  Yet, like discord well resolv’d,
  It is quickly harmonized.
  Sphynx or mermaid realiz’d,
  Or centaur unfabulous,
  Would scarce be more prodigious,
  Or Pegasus poetical,
  Or hippogriff — chimeras all!
  But, what Nature would compile,
  Nature knows to reconcile;
  And Wisdom, ever at her side,
  Of all her children’s justified.

  She had made the squirrel fragile;
  She had made the bounding hart;
  But a third so strong and agile
  Was beyond ev’n Nature’s art;
  So she join’d the former two
  In thee, Kangaroo!
  To describe thee, it is hard:
  Converse of the camélopard,
  Which beginneth camel-wise,
  But endeth of the panther size,
  Thy fore half, it would appear,
  Had belong’d to some “small deer,”
  Such as liveth in a tree;
  By thy hinder, thou should’st be
  A large animal of chace,
  Bounding o’er the forest’s space; —
  Join’d by some divine mistake,
  None but Nature’s hand can make —
  Nature, in her wisdom’s play,
  On Creation’s holiday.

  For howsoe’er anomalous,
  Thou yet art not incongruous,
  Repugnant or preposterous.
  Better-proportion’d animal,
  More graceful or ethereal,
  Was never follow’d by the hound,
  With fifty steps to thy one bound.
  Thou can’st not be amended: no;
  Be as thou art; thou best art so.

  When sooty swans are once more rare,
  And duck-moles the Museum’s care,
  Be still the glory of this land,
  Happiest Work of finest Hand!
  – Barron Field

  Wild grass, mosses, lemon myrtle, cinnamon myrtle, and bush nut.

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  Ruins of Karnstein Perfume Oil

  “It was a bad family, and here its bloodstained annals were written,” he continued. “It is hard that they should, after death, continue to plague the human race with their atrocious lusts.”

  Palatial grandeur in ruins, its decrepit majesty poised in the liminal space between decay and beauty. A haunting memory of all-consuming desire: the rich, earthy depth of oud, vetiver, and moss, grounded in the untamed wilds of the forest, echoing the ancient stones that remain.
  

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