Emulation

For ladislav guderna

Does the image eat 

Does the word drink

Does the brush itself think.

On the fingertips

A shadow, a river

And moisture capable of giving birth

To living things.

Make money not love

Says the motto

And the oil rises up

In a pasture of thoughts

Breaking through the crust

To blink on the untrodden.

The image does not eat

The word does not drink

The brush does not think

But they keep hungering for a man

Benighted on the road

In the core of his eyes

A reverence, a hair

And a rill of ire.