St. Clair DeShong

It was supposed to be a class trip to a small cafe in Park Slope, Brooklyn. The class assignment was: write a poem to recite at the cafe for open mic. It was the first time I ever sat and meditated on writing for any reason other than the practical: school work, homework, note, or letter. I discovered a new part of myself in the process of writing that first poem, entitled "Love is Hate." The open mic was therapy for a then thirteen year old boy struggling to make peace with his chaotic world. Since then, I have not stopped writing. Now, I am an author... a poet.