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.]