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.]