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.]