McHugh, a professor at U of Washington, has written 13 books of poetry and been a finalist for Pulitzer and National Book Awards. Her poetry is complicated, bringing a knowing smile at one point (‘Rehearse’ referring to the aftermath of a funeral) and a furrowed brow the next.  Her wordplay is quite extra-ordinary, but underneath all the punning and funning, there is a deep sadness, a grappling with the paradox of our beautiful world and our brief, insubstantial, and meaningless presence within it.  Lots of god references, but no overt religious bent.  So many examples, but Moving Walkway may be the best:

I would have stood for memories/if memories would will it./Memories would not. They flew/from every stronghold

                and immediacy staked its claims—/in featherdusting wind , in watercolored name,/in waves of genotype.  Ungovernable/polymorph, the flow was disinclined

                to be revised, or be reduced—could not be boxed,/could not be kept, for carrying to other/spots in time (posterities to go, or/merriments to come).  One step and we

                want meters; seven more, and we became/pure haste; fastheaded, leaving all/steadfastnesses behind,all tendencies; of centuries toward

                the halted hallways, marble men.