Blanket Weather

by h.u.e (hope-uplifts-everything)

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audio companion for Saleem Hue Penny's debut poetry chapbook
'The Attic, The Basement, The Barn'
(summer 2017 from Tammy Journal)


released February 13, 2015

written and recorded by h.u.e



all rights reserved


h.u.e (hope-uplifts-everything) Chicago, Illinois

As an interdisciplinary artist uniquely rooted in hip hop culture,
h.u.e utilizes four disciplines to create compositions with a unified aesthetic.

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Track Name: the 1st time again
he looked into her eyes
and saw an ocean opened wide
she peered into his gaze
and saw the sky when the moon stays away
Track Name: us to be (visualizing)
with my long strides, and my skinny legs
i will march this globe like a trumpeter,
leading processions of love-lost people, and forlorn dreamers,
i will sail to the edge of the world to share this gospel,
Track Name: these dreams
i’m in a new skin like a lizard or a snake bends/
the river ran wild in my life back then/
let my heart free-range/
now it’s time to rope it in/
they were just sand before they were mountains
Track Name: idle words (quickening)
sometimes curled quietly in a corner
waiting for the sun to shine upon her
she hums,
like a river, like the first snowfall,
she is a storm of violent proportions
Track Name: these colors now
Next to each other yet a world away
The moon and the sun barely share the whole day
Yet they may if you spin the Earth fast enough
We stay until the staying gets too tough
Track Name: stargazer
the clouds are the color of violets
and i am suffering from a bruised ego.
Track Name: ...until it stops
I wish/ I may, might I/
Find a way to say/ just a fraction
Of the slivers that the friction inside
My woodblock heart delivers/
Track Name: inside rise
i’m covered in a paste, grey and brown,
not a sound, it’s night, dark, no flames, not a spark,
all ashes, i’m painted and stained in blood now
Track Name: an instrument
i seek to find
to breathe the sky,
then add that blue to my overcast hue.
Track Name: to be continued
But I never wanted to be a Lost Boy
I was more fascinated with a gathering of Old Men
Instead of pixie dust, sawdust
Old piccolo joints after midnight
Where the shots were hard
And life rang loud