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.]