This week I studied beneath Selwyn Muru's volcanic painting 
which divides itself beneath left-star blue and a blood-let red. 
I would read through my notes, memorise and glance up, 

reassured that it was still there, disturbed only by the people 
who moved in and out of the frame, talking like the stray dogs 
which I imagine would walk across the mountains above my head. 

It made me laugh when I was told that they are nga maunga korero- 
the Talking Mountains-influencing my life from their heights/providing 
a touchstone amongst the small tremors of oratory. 
 

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