Crow, Pirate, Fly is a glitching manifesto of pain, pleasure, domination and submission. A power play of identities, authors, lovers and mothers, Hannah Silva’s long-awaited second collection is subversive and compelling, intimate and estranging, animal and alien. Ten years in gestation, this genre-queering text began as a cut up of Kathy Acker’s literary terrorism with one of this century’s most infamous erotic phenomenons, and now emerges as its own thing — dark, wild, innovative and pregnant with desire.

There are no safe words.