How should I begin?   I find myself residing   At the dried out end of a dead history.   All my thoughts of are dirt   Scattered on a coffin.   And I a dilettante funeral spectator here.   How should I presume?   A besuited bourgeois mourner,   Virgin to surrender and vivid sense,   I scour lichened stones,   Desperately seeking   Daedalus's paternal secret of   Where we will land.   Well I was born with four fingers   On each hand,   And with my eight fingers,   And my thumbs,   I do maths.   Once again, how should I begin?   I've started weak and I'm stuttering,   But I have all remembered all my lines.   It seems that I have presumes   To talk of maths   In front of crowded rooms.   But I'll make the two times table mine.   Calculus finshes me,   I don' follow trigonometry,   I've got nothing to add to algebra,   The more complex functions   I don't remember.   But arithmetic...   The absolute zero   Is arithmetic   On fingers and toes.   I have remembered   All my lines.   I'll make the two times table mine.   I will not presume, but i will thus begin.