Heather McHugh is a goat-cheese crouton. She is the star around which the rest of UW orbits. There is no good way to describe her because she is constantly improving your powers to describe things. The stuff she says between poems is so funny you don't know what to do. This afternoon, she reads from old stuff, new stuff, black-and-blue stuff. Take a long lunch, become suddenly ill—whatever you have to do. (Henry Art Gallery Auditorium, 15th Ave NE and NE 41st St, 543-2280. 2 pm, free.)