1. I think the use of parenthesis is not related to [  ]'s, at least as I
have used them.. I have always loved this Roethke poem by the way - the
robust sensuality of its moves and counter-moves.
But I think the function of the parens here, is a contrapuntal or
anti-phonal device (what is the right word?) - where the parens is kind of
an 'off stage' comment/reflection - ironic and/or humorous on the action
that has filled the stanza.

2. On way of looking at the use of [   ]'s, is to envision the poem as a
material space, a kind of canvas, one in which [  ]'s create a negative
space. A kind of shadow under which x,y or z image may be taking place - as
implied by the facts represented in the visible text.    The [   ]'s my also
imply or insist on a a silence (a stillness) between the poem's different
phases or movements.
Ann Carson's translations of Sappho use [  ]s  to indicate that the papyrus
is broken or empty between or before words. In reality the use of the
brackets creates a suspense, and/or permits the imagination to fulfill what
may or may not be missing in the poem (or to confront the void of what is
missing).

I played with brackets a bunch in my 'transversions' of Carson's
translations and her use of brackets. I find them very playful, and a great
way to liberate a poem from a predictable prosody, at least the expectations
of a familiar prosody. Again, it is also a way of converting a poem in a
material space - the poem as a 'literal' canvas that you can work like a
painter. 

Here is just a brief example from my transversion of one the Carson pieces:


4.        
             ]heartless
             ]tentative
             ]I will not
             ]not for you
             ]darkness

                    ]
                    ]the footfall
                    ]
                    ]pure crimson
                    ]


If you want to find some more examples  of these, go to:

Sleeping With Sappho (a faux ebook) now at:
http://www.fauxpress.com/e/vincent/

Or Masthead (the 2005) issue has a good selection.

Stephen V
http://stephenvincent.net/blog/
Now with a couple pieces from "Letters to Jack" (Spicer),
A work in progress.






 




> I knew a woman
> 
> by  Theodore Roethke
> 
>   I knew a woman, lovely in her bones,
>   When small birds sighed, she would sigh back at them;
>   Ah, when she moved, she moved more ways than one:
>   The shapes a bright container can contain!
>   Of her choice virtues only gods could speak,
>   Or English poets who grew up on Greek
>   (I'd have them sing in chorus, cheek to cheek).
> 
>   How well her wishes went! She stroked my chin,
>   She taught me Turn, and Counter-turn, and Stand,
>   She taught me Touch, that undulant white skin;
>   I nibbled meekly from her proffered hand;
>   She was the sickle; I, poor I, the rake,
>   Coming behind her for her pretty sake
>   (But what prodigious mowing we did make).
> 
>   Love likes a gander, and adores a goose:
>   Her full lips pursed, the errant note to seize;
>   She played it quick, she played it light and loose;
>   My eyes, they dazzled at her flowing knees;
>   Her several parts could keep a pure repose,
>   Or one hip quiver with a mobile nose
>   (She moved in circles, and those circles moved).
> 
>   Let seed be grass, and grass turn into hay;
>   I'm martyr to a motion not my own;
>   What's freedom for? To know eternity.
>   I swear she cast a shadow white as stone.
>   But who would count eternity in days?
>   These old bones live to learn her wanton ways:
>   (I measure time by how a body sways).