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      October 11, 2018TakeoffCharles Owen Lawson

      The coffee bubbles on;
      a DC-9 heads for O’Hare;
      I have nothing to declare
      except the seashell sound
      of distant freeway cars, a
      passing cargo train; mice
      squeaking underneath the floor;
      crows cawing at the unreceptive
      snow; these words waiting to be
      poured.

      from Issue #11 - Summer 1999

      Charles Owen Lawson

      “I write mostly from loneliness, a way of reaching out from a life-long sense of isolation. I have tried other mediums (painting, music, etc.), but I simply lacked the skill.”