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Chris Newlove Horton
Chris Newlove Horton is a writer living in London.

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DATE NIGHT

Prize Entry

April 2016

Chris Newlove Horton

Prize Entry

April 2016

He said, ‘Tell me about yourself.’ He said, ‘Tell me about you.’ He said, ‘Tell me everything. I’m interested.’ He said, ‘I want to...

fiction

April 2015

Heavy

Chris Newlove Horton

fiction

April 2015

It is a two lane road somewhere in North America. The car is pulled onto the shoulder with the...

VISA GODS   In this story, Eurydice is dark & deadly & has lived all her life in Hades In this story, Orpheus plays the drums   A semester-at-sea program  Tamil refugee solidarity group makes them meet Orpheus is ensnared watching the way she talks with her hands and laughs with her eyes and speaks with an accent he has never taken to bed Skin sun-kissed as cinnamon stick, long hair that anchors storms, a mouth filled with the coarsest curses on land Gossip says it was the spice in her meals, it may well have been the sex   For the sake of this story, Orpheus has to bring her into the first world In his contract with the overlords there’s no clause about looking back, about trust, about hearing the footsteps of the loved one before walking ahead— that is not a white people thing at all   Here, Orpheus must leave Eurydice must follow   In other words, Eurydice, to smuggle their love, must screw her way into Europe   Eurydice must cross the seas, pass through border controls, fight for a Schengen, chant prayers for her visa, borrow recklessly with her bank, get her passport stamped She must do this six hundred times over a lifetime   Hostage to nation-state, our man Orpheus must wait, must will himself to live for a woman who weeps when she is away, weeps when it’s time to leave, weeps when she cannot come, who weeps in his arms because their love story is not in their hands   Orpheus no longer plays the drums   Now, there is no music in his life— only the silence at parting, the white noise of waiting     A CAT CLOSING HER EYES   Poonai kanmoodi kondaal, Poolokam irundu vidaathu When a cat shuts its eyes, the world does not turn dark   It is said that mothers have a proverb for every occasion— amma recycled the same one to see me through everything   To tackle my teenage tantrums Poonai kanmoodi kondaal Your sulking does not affect me, girl!   To combat my depression Poonai kanmoodi kondaal Just stop wallowing in your sorrows, girl!   To stop me giving up Poonai kanmoodi kondaal The world will move on without you, girl!   Most of all, to put me together, heartbreak after heartbreak Poonai kanmoodi kondaal He doesn’t see you, girl, you are beautiful, men will find you, and you will find love!     INDIA IS MY COUNTRY   Like the fascist who led us to this ruin, death has also learnt to wear a different disguise these days   No heavy as sorrow

Contributor

August 2014

Chris Newlove Horton

Contributor

August 2014

Chris Newlove Horton is a writer living in London.

James Richards: Not Blacking Out...

Art

December 2011

Chris Newlove Horton

Art

December 2011

Artist James Richards appropriates audio-visual material gathered from a range of sources, which he then edits into elaborate, fragmented collages.   But whereas his...

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poetry

Issue No. 8

The Cloud of Knowing

John Ashbery

poetry

Issue No. 8

There are those who would have paid that. The amount your eyes bonded with (O spangled home) will have...

fiction

April 2012

They Told the Story from the Lighthouse

Chimene Suleyman

fiction

April 2012

I found Margate watching the sea. And I walked the streets thinking they had left it sometime in the...

Interview

Issue No. 5

Interview with Hans Ulrich Obrist

Ben Eastham

Interview

Issue No. 5

Hans Ulrich Obrist is a compulsive note taker. For the duration of our interview one hand twitches a pen...

 

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