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.]