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.]