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.]