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.]