LEONORE HILDEBRANDT grew up in Hamburg, Germany, and moved to eastern-most Maine in the 1980s. She and her husband Robert Froese built a solar home, planted vegetables and fruit trees, and raised their lovely daughters. More recently, they have been spending the winter in Silver City, NM.

Leonore is the author of the poetry collections Where You Happen to Be (Deerbrook Editions), The Next Unknown (Pecan Grove Press) and The Work at Hand, a letter-press chapbook (Flat Bay Press). Her poems and translations have been published in the Cafe Review, Cerise Press, the Cimarron Review, Denver Quarterly, The Fiddlehead, Harpur Palate, Poetry Daily, Poetry Salzburg Review, and the Sugar House Review, among other journals. Winner of the 2013 Gemini Poetry Contest, she received fellowships from the Elizabeth George Foundation, the Maine Community Foundation, and the Maine Arts Commission. She was nominated several times for a Pushcart Prize. Leonore teaches writing and literature at the University of Maine and serves on the editorial board of the Beloit Poetry Journal.

As a musician and songwriter, Leonore has performed locally in various ensembles and venues, most often as part of a folk duo with Brian Dyer Stewart. They play original music with a jazzy flair, and have recorded several CDs.

It’s sometimes said that a writer needs both binoculars and a microscope, the former to see the long view, the latter to find essential details. Hildebrandt has both in her armory and she uses them to create gorgeous poems that make you consider “where you happen to be.” Buckminster Fuller would have approved. J.J. Amaworo Wilson
Saturday, January 19, 2019 -- 2:00 PM
Just Words at the Tranquilbuzz Coffee House will celebrate two new 2018 books: Poet Leonore Hildebrandt's new poetry collection WHERE YOU HAPPEN TO BE and Christopher Saxman's and Terry Humble's pictorial history of Grant County mining, RELICS OF THE UNDERGROUND METAL MINERS.  
Dana Wilde writes in Off Radar, 'Where You Happen to Be' and 'Leaves Surface Like Skin' both help to crack the door open a little wider for people who are discovering poetry.