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.]