In many ways, poetry resembles reality TV. It is inexpensive and easy to produce, almost anybody can participate and it usually comes in a neat package. The Wave Books Poetry Bus Tour does not fall into this category.

Instead, it thrives on its unconventionality. The ambitious tour is on schedule with its itinerary of 50 cities in 50 days. The bio-diesel engine on the Green Tortoise bus is holding up splendidly. Bill, who usually lives in the bus but was hired as the driver for the trip, is making sure that the bus that can sleep 38 poets is navigating through the United States and Canada on target.

The poetry is different, too. It's more ambitious than the average rock band, able to switch its image quickly (see Omaha, where the participants unexpectedly read for an audience containing sixth graders) and gaining momentum by the moment.

On Monday night, two of the editors of the Seattle-based independent poetry press read selections from their books at Harry W. Schwartz Bookshop, 2559 N. Downer Ave.

"We've been doing a lot of standing lately," said Joshua Beckman, one of the editors, as he took a seat behind a wooden table to read from "Shake." Flanked by movie poster-sized images of books, Beckman read what sounded like one long poem after editor Matthew Zapruder read selections from his book "The Pajamist."

Though moments such as "the cue ball /descendent of a mythic cue ball" in Beckman's poetry may have been overdramatic, his voice was void of the usually revealing first-person references that plague much of bad poetry. Instead, his narrative voice lives in a world with a nondescript "she" and lots of liquor.

Situated in a back corner, the mostly younger collection of poets' voices carried throughout the store on microphone. About 50 people of different ages were present in the usually quiet bookstore, including Dustin Williamson, a former Milwaukee resident who now resides in Brooklyn and is on this leg of the tour.

Fresh off the bus from The Green Mill in Chicago, where "slam" poetry was invented, Williamson was eager to change misconceptions of poets by being on the tour. He read at the second Milwaukee stop of the tour, Linneman's, a bar and restaurant at 1001 E. Locust St.

"I hate saying it, but I'm a poet," Williamson said. "The general idea is that poets are introverted and not fun to be around." He describes his poetry, which often takes the form of a shape, as disconnected and "reflecting the passage of time."

At Linneman's, poets' voices intermingled with the bar patrons in the more casual setting. The two microphones, set up for height disparities, could have been louder, but to do so may have compromised the organic and intimate feeling of the tour.

Marquette English lecturer and resident Riverwest poet Matt Cook also read at the bar, though he is not on the tour. At the bar, poets had a loose time limit of five minutes.

After stopping at farms, bars and coffeehouses, "The bus is remarkably clean," Williamson said. "It looks very professional, which people must think is odd."