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