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.]