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.

Pity the artist

PITY THE ARTIST

Oh you who casually
cross the byway of the
Ordinary, spare a thought
for the artist; he who
sees the impossible in
the mundane; the miraculous
in the everydayeveryhour-morning;
Offer him your fruit
(if you do not offer
he will still take it);
to him it will be
gentian gold;
let him glut his minddreams
on your crisp orange secretions
that to you are nothing special
but to him hold manifold
secrets from silvering
suppers to be coaled.

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