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.]