UN COUP DE DÉS

                            JAMAIS

                                                                                                         QUAND BIEN MÊME LANCÉ DANS DES CIRCONSTANCES
                                                                                                       ÉTERNELLES
                                                                                                                      DU FOND D’UN NAUFRAGE

                        SOIT
 que
l’Abîme
            blanchi
        étale
                    furieux
        sous une inclinaison
              plane désespérément
d’aile
                         la sienne
                                                                                                                        par avance retombée d’un mal à dresser le vol
                                                                                                                 et couvrant les jaillissements
                                                                                                          coupant au ras les bonds
                                                                                                                       très à l’intérieur résume
                                                                                                                             l’ombre enfouie dans la profondeur par cette voile alternative
                                                                                                           jusqu’adapter
                                                                                                         à l’envergure
                                                                                                         sa béante profondeur en tant que la coque
                                                                                                     d’un bâtiment
                                                                                                              penché de l’un ou l’autre bord

                   LE MAÎTRE
     surgi
                                                                                                                       hors d’anciens calculs
                     inférant
                                                                                                                        où la manœuvre avec l’âge oubliée
                                                                                                      jadis il empoignait la barre
                   de cette conflagration à ses pieds
                                                                                                                      de l’horizon unanime
        que se prépare
                                                                                                                      s’agite et mêle
                                                                                                                  au poing qui l’étreindrait
             comme on menace un destin et les vents
    l’unique Nombre qui ne peut pas être un autre
                                                                                                      Esprit
                                                                                                     pour le jeter
                                                                                                                   dans la tempête
                                                                                                                     en reployer la division et passer fier
            hésite
             cadavre par le bras écarté du secret qu’il détient
                  plutôt
                        que de jouer
                     en maniaque chenu
                   la partie
    au nom des flots
                                                                                                            un envahit le chef
                                                                                                                         coule en barbe soumise
                   naufrage cela direct de l’homme
                                                                                                      sans nef
                                                                                                                      n’importe
                                                                                                           où vaine

                        ancestralement à n’ouvrir pas la main
                         crispée
                 par-delà l’inutile tête
                 legs en la disparition
                     à quelqu’un
   ambigu
                   l’ultérieur démon immémorial
ayant
                de contrées nulles
    induit
                         le vieillard vers cette conjonction suprême avec la probabilité
        celui
        son ombre puérile
               caressée et polie et rendue et lavée
  assouplie par la vague et soustraite
                 aux durs os perdus entre les ais
                   né
           d’un ébat
                 la mer par l’aïeul tentant ou l’aïeul contre la mer
               une chance oiseuse
              Fiançailles
                    dont
                        le voile d’illusion rejailli leur hantise
  ainsi que le fantôme d’un geste
                        chancellera
s’affalera
    folie

                              N’ABOLIRA

    COMME SI
                       Une insinuation simple
        au silence enroulée avec ironie
                                                                                                                          ou
                                                                                                                  le mystère
                                                                                                                             précipité
                                                                                                               hurlé
                    dans quelque proche tourbillon d’hilarité et d’horreur
       voltige autour du gouffre
                                                                                                          sans le joncher
                                                                                                     ni fuir
                                                                                                                   et en berce le vierge indice
                                                                                                                             COMME SI

                        plume solitaire éperdue
                                                                                                                             sauf que la rencontre ou l’effleure une toque de minuit
                                                                                                                            et immobilise
                                                                                                                         au velours chiffonné par un esclaffement sombre
                                                                                                            cette blancheur rigide
                                                                                                              dérisoire
                                                                                                          en opposition au ciel
                                                                                                              trop
                                                                                                                        pour ne pas marquer
                                                                                                                 exigüment
                                                                                                                quiconque
                                                                                                                prince amer de l’écueil
                                                                                                                 s’en coiffe comme de l’héroïque
                                                                                                                    irrésistible mais contenu
                                                                                                                 par sa petite raison virile
                                                                                                                         en foudre

                   soucieux
                  expiatoire et pubère
                    muet
                                                                                                                  rire
                                                                                                                 que
                                                                                                                            SI
                         La lucide et seigneuriale aigrette de vertige
            au front invisible
                         scintille
          puis ombrage
                 une stature mignonne ténébreuse debout
                  en sa torsion de sirène
                                                                                                               le temps
                                                                                                                    de souffleter
    par d’impatientes squames ultimes bifurquées
                                                                                                                  un roc
                                                                                                                           faux manoir
                                                                                                                     tout de suite
                                                                                                       évaporé en brumes
                                                                                                                         qui imposa
                                                                                                     une borne à l’infini

                       C'ÉTAIT
   issu stellaire LE NOMBRE
                                                                                                                  EXISTÂT-IL
                                                                                                                  autrement qu’hallucination éparse d’agonie
                                                                                                            COMMENÇÂT-IL ET CESSÂT-IL
                                                                                                         sourdant que nié et clos quand apparu
                                                                                                            enfin
                                                                                                              par quelque profusion répandue en rareté
                                                                                                                         SE CHIFFRÂT-IL
                                                                                                              évidence de la somme pour peu qu’une
                                                                                                             ILLUMINÂT-IL
                      CE SERAIT
    pire
                 non
 davantage ni moins
 indifféremment mais autant

                           LE HASARD

                                                                                                       Choit
                                                                                                             la plume
                                                                                                                    rythmique suspens du sinistre
                                                                                                                        s’ensevelir
                                                                                                            aux écumes orginelles
                                                                                                           naguères d’où sursauta son délire jusqu’à une cime
                                                                                                                      flétrie
                                                                                                              par la neutralité identique du gouffre

       RIEN
                       de la mémorable crise
                         ou se fût
              l’évènement accompli en vue de tout résultat nul
                                                                                                                  humain
                                                                                                        N’AURA EU LIEU
                                                                                                                    une élévation ordinaire verse l’absence
                                                                                                       QUE LE LIEU
                                                                                                       inférieur clapotis quelconque comme pour disperser l’acte vide
                                                                                                                        abruptement qui sinon
                                                                                                                            par son mensonge
                                                                                                                     eût fondé
                                                                                                                       la perdition
                                                                                                                      dans ces parages
                                                                                                                du vague
                                                                                                                          en quoi toute réalité se dissout

     EXCEPTÉ
         à l’altitude
     PEUT-ÊTRE
                        aussi loin qu’un endroit fusionne avec au-delà
                                                                                                                          hors l’intérêt
                                                                                                                   quant à lui signalé
                                                                                                         en général
                                                                                                                        selon telle obliquité par telle déclivité
                                                                                                           de feux
                                                                                                                vers
                                                                                                                  ce doit être
                                                                                                    le Septentrion aussi Nord
                                                                                                              UNE CONSTELLATION
                                                                                                     froide d’oubli et de désuétude
                                                                                                            pas tant
                                                                                                        qu’elle n’énumère
                                                                                                        sur quelque surface vacante et supérieure
                                                                                                               le heurt successif
                                                                                                         sidéralement
                                                                                                                         d’un compte total en formation
                                                                                                             veillant
                                                                                                                  doutant
                                                                                                                          roulant
                                                                                                     brillant et méditant
                                                                                                               avant de s’arrêter
                                                                                                          à quelque point dernier qui le sacre
                                                                                                                Toute Pensée émet un Coup de Dés



[Stéphane Mallarmé, poème paru en 1897 dans la revue Cosmopolis puis publié en 1914 dans La Nouvelle Revue Française.]