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.]