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.]