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.]