How should I begin?

I find myself residing

At the dried out end of a dead history.

All my thoughts are dirt

Scattered on a coffin,

And I a dilettante funereal 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 remembered all my lines.

It seems that I have thus presumed

To talk of maths in front of crowded rooms,

But I’ll make the two times table mine.

How should I begin?

I find myself residing

At the dried out end of a dead history.

How should I presume?

A besuited bourgeois mourner,

Virgin to surrender and vivid sense,?

Calculus finishes me,

I don’t 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,

And I’ll make the two times table mine.

I will not presume, but I will thus begin.