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.]