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.]