Roy Joseph Cotton – September 11, '53 – March 10, '85

Roy commenced writing poetry during his latter school years. He read prolifically and was passionate about music and was a devote to Bob Dylan. He wrote many plays or "Musical Paintings" as he called them, and was also busy with two works "Multimythicum" and "Girlpools, Whirpools, and other gusts of Twirling Hair". He wrote from the security of a warm, close family in a comfortable Cape Town (South Africa) suburb. Yet most of his huge output of poems reflect a consuming angst. It was an angst which drove him to search for peace throughout books, music, writing, and religion, and it led to ultimate despair. His highly idiosyncratic way with language and the intense pressure of his emotional and spiritual concerns make his poetry compelling and disturbing reading. His untimely death at age of 31 cut short his promising career as a poet.

Non Comprehendos

NON COMPREHENDOS

No one understands me.
Leaves think i’m a tree
while pills think i could
possibly be a chemist; all
of which i am of sorts.
Insurance agents regard me
as a well tethered victim
for their Knife. I think
postmen sometimes see me
as some kind of wily postal
demon; but of that one
can never be a hundred percent
certain. Flowers hardly re-
gard me at all.

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