Robert Grenier en gallerie (scusi the phony French, tho it seems a propos). 6 years before Sentences was published, Grenier pinned the cards thereof onto the corkboard lining a wall at Franconia College. I had next to zero concept of the dynamics of art, the conceptual part, but walking down the hall struck me as a wonder. felt like a gallery, tho its demonstrativeness was warm and unassuming. this picture looks like NYC: synthesized, glisky, opulently reverent. this is not a grudge speaking. I am interested in Grenier's visual work but the seminal formation apparent in the presentation at Franconia has more gusto for me than the chardonnay in the plastic cup stance of the gallery crowd. I remember seeing him pinning the poems up, it had a guerrilla vibe to it, tho it was not like graffiti, just that he was making unusual use of the space. galleries strike me as bemusedly tolerant rather than engaged, and Grenier would be regarded as the latest screwball, soon to be replaced. I learned so much from him. I find myself not wanting to see him in this flashy scene. I saw much of the seminal experience of LANGUAGE poetry, the stuff that Kent Johnson et al. have missed, by way of Grenier's lessons, curiosity and openness. Grenier as just the next artist in a gallery is kinda depressing. I did not expect to get to this point when I began this post.