Jack Dinovitz

The ones who danced with darkness  By Jack Dinovitz I have danced with darkness, it’s not all melancholy and Daisy’s. Her dance is Cynical, exacerbating the idea of touched lips. The cheap smell of lines and raspy diaphragms curse the words of the matriarchy, but the sound of loneliness and silence were all too strong.   I have met indifference, his sadist touch of rage and morality escaped out of a mind to numb for the scars of beauty and to drawn for the night of the patriarch.  They denounced the innocent, playing god with book written by misogyny and whispered to the weeping, commit. It’s suicide plainly as the words grow and shrink in the child’s mind that never felt canonized. Purity never rots, damnation on the persecutors, damnation on the malevolent.  I have seen the quiet, it’s cold and stagnant.  I was saved by belladonna, the comfort of her night and dampness of soul cloaked and drenched me in Lazarus. Lily came first then came eve. I have touched the

The day all the honey bees died By Jack Dinovitz The bees were dancing  They screamed as they died  My sincerest to your breathe  The pollen is gone. You created me.  The grass lay Dead. The trees crunch and break at the sound of thunder. You laughed.  They weren’t aware. You gave them to me. Tomorrow laughed.  The birds sing quietly and the sound of nothing plied in your head. You killed god and created religion. But what created human? The day all the honey bees died. 

Grimm Tales From a Child “Sylvia walked into the miniature golf course last night wearing nothing but cowboy boots, a red bikini and a rubber band in her hair.” “That’s horrible…” jerry retorted setting down his half empty glass of milk. “Yeah I know, an 82 year old woman shouldn’t be wandering around on her own into a Childrens birthday party wearing only those things, let alone at a miniature golf course.” “So thats why you did it?” “Did what?” “Kill her…” “Oh, no!” Grimm laughed, “I killed her because she smoked two packs a day and basically bathed in the grease at K.F.C.” “oh…” a long pause came next that was as simple as it was melancholy. “So why do you have to kill me?” Jerry the young boy looked into The Grimm Reapers eyes and smiled sweetly. “Well… you know…” Death thought long and hard  on this question. “Sometimes people get sick and sometimes they have to… go.” “But why do I have to go?” Grimm started to lose patience and began to move quickly closer