Richard Blanco joins Boston Public Radio for another segment of Village Voice to share a collection of poems “that surrender to oblivion as a way of feeling renewed and perhaps in a way arriving at a new kind of awareness that helps us to keep on going,” he says.

Follow along with the poems as they are read and discussed:

“Good Bones” by Maggie Smith
“Fire and Ice” by Robert Frost
“Nothing Gold Can Stay” by Robert Frost

“And So We All Fall Down” by Richard Blanco
For Anselm Kiefer’s installation:
Steigend Steigend Sinke Nieder (rising, rising, falling down)
2009–2012

And so the hunks of pavement heaved and set
before us are every road we’ve tired, and those
we wish we had, and those we will, and those
we never will, or those that’ll dead-end when
our empire ends. And so let our debris to be
reassembled as tenderly as these curated bits
of rubble letting us see how chaos yields order,
and order chaos. And so let our nation’s faces
be these boulders like tiny, bruised moons out
of orbit, and yet enduring, still spinning across
the shiny gallery floor, despite the brutal love
of the universe and brutal love for our country.
And so let us believe we won’t simply end like
the speck of a star that will explode as quietly
as a poem whispered above our rooftops into
a black hole into the black night. And so let us
believe there is still eternity even in our ruin,
like this art made out of these remains, made
more alive by destruction. And so all the dead
stalks of these sunflowers embalmed with paint
and fixed by our imagination dangling forever
from the ceiling like acrobats that’ll never fall.
And so the hope in what they let us hope: that
our ideals won’t all disappear, that some trace
of what we have believed must endure beyond
our decay, beyond entropy’s law, assuring us
we’ll live on, even after our inevitable dissolve.