Archive for women

Only A God or A Woman…

Posted in Theresa Duncan with tags , , , , , , , , , , on December 5, 2015 by Mj Rains


“The Koh-i-Noor diamond was mined in India in around 1100 and probably originated from Golconda in the southern region of Andhra Pradesh. The shape and size of a small hen’s egg, the diamond attained a sinister mystique…

continued here

Random post from The Wit of the Staircase by Theresa Duncan

Chimney Sweeping…

Posted in Theresa Duncan with tags , , , , , , , , , , on November 17, 2015 by Mj Rains


The symptoms of Bertha Pappenheim and the explication of memories or “the talking cure” in psychology…

via: The Wit of the Staircase


She was carrying forgotten things…

Posted in Poetry at large with tags , , , , , , , on January 13, 2015 by Mj Rains


She was traveling.
Where was she going?
Someone has to know…

She was carrying forgotten things…

Immeasurable, long-lasting
Things that could not be broken
even if
one tried.


Half concealed
Everything danced when she spoke.
And those things
Hidden so far in memory
all at once
jolted free.


It was a moment.
Nothing more.

-The Wit Continuum

Remembering Theresa…

Posted in Theresa Duncan with tags , , , , , , , , on October 26, 2014 by Mj Rains

theresa 2

Happy Birthday Tracy… wherever you are…

Theresa Duncan Oct. 26, 1966 ~ July 10, 2007

theresa 1

She’s the original Wit of the Staircase, the inspiration for my blog way back when, and lover of Halloween, a love we share…

theresa 3

“Well-behaved women seldom make history.”
~Laurel Thatcher Ulrich

All images from Mary Duncan’s blog Memories of Theresa

A kind of bindweed began to strangle me…

Posted in Writing with tags , , , , , , , , , on October 25, 2014 by Mj Rains


I was lying in the grass and not moving (at the end of the garden). It was the first day of the war. I lay an hour, two hours, I no longer remember how many hours I lay there. The grass grew through me, got entangled in my veins, the wild flowers blossomed out of my fingers and toes. A kind of bindweed began to strangle me, winding from one ear to the other.

– Nina Berberova, The Italics Are Mine 1939

%d bloggers like this: