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.]