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24 The Geometry of Orgasm In this matter, the square on the hypotenuse is not equal to its usual thing. I mount the tubular trajectory wary or reluctant or breathless, and wait for the skittering sands of geomancy to show the edge. There is always an edge. However gentle the rise. There is always a fall. Sometimes eighty degrees drops to a minor ledge. Sometimes fifty gives way to a blossoming bungee. I am the Pythagorean fire or, sometimes, I am splayed on the violence of an isosceles. 25 Jagged like shells or broken like eggs. At times, the surprising droop at the end of a line that meant to be straight but tired of infinity. Always, the sublime isostasy of tug and give, slack and taut, and the settling triangulation of going coming came. ...

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