Like father,like son

Father don't leave me
inked on a piece of paper
lying shriveled
quivering
door to door
between fast moving cars
on this raging asphalt
that you never chose to cross 
                              yourself...

welcome the wrath..

Wrath has come down from the hills to enlist
Me surely in his brindled generation,
The race of the tiger;come down at last
Has wrath to build a bonfire of my breast
With one wet match and all man's desolation
   
                                              -from stanley kunitz's 'welcome the wrath'