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.

The petrol pump attendant

THE PETROL PUMP ATTENDANT

He exhalts the coming of my
beaten-up whale, waving me in,
the buy-aid book fetching,
taking his cue from the
puddles of adverts splashing
across the yards. The true
son of the koppie, the wild
grass and the thorn must wear
the soiled overalls of the
Caltex Company and feed
insatiable fishes.
He is the cinder
that sighs. No longer a
warrior. Forsaken. Given
ammunition and the right kind
of training he could be the
man to blow up the skies.

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