A poem in The New Yorker

Somebody asked me what I thought about the poems in The New Yorker. I said I liked the cartoons, especially the cartoons about writers. Somebody insisted I answer the question they'd asked me, so I tried again to answer accordingly. The poems in The New Yorker are little collages of words that always make me wonder how they got in there, into the magazine I mean, whether I read them or not. Does that make sense, I asked. No, not really, the grammar of your answer isn't very good, somebody said, the one who asked the original question. My answer conveys the sense, I said, of my finding very little in them or to them, the poems in The New Yorker. Sounds like sour grapes to me, somebody said.