I found this in my inbox today. It looks surprisingly like something V7 would write:
Wheel tracks entrench themselves in snow, yet painted
Sphinx of questioning substance, or a sort
But what I am looking at is hardened snow,
giddy as good kids playing hookey. Now,
Centimeters?that the height of the canvas
The mortal architect had brought to life,
Toward something that the world is pointing toward
Lucky the bell?still full and deep of throat,
The ordinary, wide scene which begins
This third day of our January thaw,
The winter road from the St. Simeon farm
Snaps of ice cracking in the hidden air.
II. Quest and Conquest
Dreaming time has reversed, I watch drowned snow
Hoarfrost is in his bones and on his head,
Life, or only joy, that stands out
From point to point of meaning?open? closed??
Where, as I discover as I go through
When Arctic winds crack down from Canada